"It's not that," she said. "I don't feel comfortable in all-white places, even when I was alive. It's too ... I don't know, too sterile maybe?"
"Reminds you of hospitals?"
"Maybe that's it, I don't know. All I know is that the whiter a room is, the more nervous I get. I've never seen or heard of anything good happening in all-white rooms."
"Oh I can help with that, dear," the old woman at the desk piped up. She put a hand flat out on her desk, and color spread from there. The colors were soft and muted, blushing pinks and dusty roses. She wasn't a huge fan of pink either, but it was better than white. Mifa relaxed noticeably.
"Thanks," she said to the secretary. It was only a few minutes later that one of the office doors opened and a very pretty young blonde woman emerged from the office alone.
"Someone else for me, Mrs. Steinberg?" Bethany asked.
