Scott McCrayola

multicolored smoke
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Hue was a man whose heart was made of gold. His crystal blue eyes could comfort all of the people around him; they cradled you like the ocean cradles a boat. The wispy white hair on his head was a constant reminder that age doesn’t have anything to do with youth since he had the spirit of a new born, even though he was past his prime.

Hue was the kind of person that could make flowers bloom into beautiful shades of red, orange and yellow as he walked by. He lit up every room he was in, turning the blacks and grays into delightful mixes of green, pink and every other color of the rainbow.

Hue was a joyous old man who knew what to say, along with when and how to say it. He was the man that you would go to with problems that you never knew you had and he would help you with them. His calm demeanor made him everyone’s best friend, even if they never shared words. Hue was the person that everyone wanted to be around. He found joy in helping others.

So, when Hue died, the world seemed to stop. All of joy that he brought to so many was just a memory. His influence on the world was no more.

Hue was the best person that I have ever met. He brightened the world with kind words, thoughts and actions. Now that he’s gone, everything around me seems darker. It’s as if the brightness and the colors have dimmed. With Hue gone, it’s only a matter of time until the colors fade completely.

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