“I’m Red,” she says, feeling a little thick-skinned and not really wanting to engage.
“I’m kind of red too,” he counters, hoping to find common ground.
“You’re not red. You’re kind of yellow.”
“What! I am not yellow. I’m more bold!”
“Well you’re definitely not red,” she says, refusing to be put in the same box as this stranger. The chill from the air conditioning and the cold fluorescent lighting match Red’s frigid attitude.
“I’m juicy…” He wonders if sticking to the positive might peel away Red’s thick layers.