Grey was down to two yellow pens. Those always were left over, because they were the lightest. He could rarely use them for general purposes since they showed up badly, and he did not know what yellow was good for.
Pink was also light, but pink was for happiness. He’d been scrawling pink swirls on his skin, to keep his spirits up.
Grey hunkered down with some scrap paper and scribbled. Circle, no, square, no... triangle was getting closer. Outgoing. Open, like the sunny sky. With that image in mind, Grey drew a star. It glowed softly in his hands.