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#Writever 10.24 — Ombres (Shadows) [Prompt refers to Batman Shadows Edition? https://tinyurl.com/bdzcd8jc]

The day my world desaturated completely, leaving me living in the shadows, I thought my life was ruined. Doctors said I'd had a stroke, but they never found the damage. I would not learn for years the extent to which my acquired colorblindness left me cursed.

My solution: I drank whiskey, the cheaper the better.

It's not as properly-sighted geezers tell you: "Watching black and white TV, you see the colors." No. They might think so, but tests for a trucking license prove you don't. Pa and Son trucking, kaput. For being a hard-ass, Pa proved infuriatingly supportive, dragging me home puking up my liver, to getting my GED, to enrolling me in trade school, to finding me a job at a friend's convenience store. You'd think you encounter enough disreputable types on the night shift, it would have started there, but it didn't.

It was midnight when I walked home on a dark mid-city street. Loud barking caught my attention, but the rising crescendo of outraged yowls made my skin crawl. The grey-faced Rottweiler framed in a street light had seen better days, but big orange tabby had seen far fewer, missing teeth, squinting while yowling. A yellow bowl of food sat between.

The cat swiped, claws out.

The dog yelped, fell on it's ass, scrambling back. Whining, he watched the tabby leisurely eat. I saw a faint blue glow, like a gas pilot in a dark room, surrounding the Rottweiler; the tabby evidenced one like hot iron.

The tabby eyed me malevolently and hissed.

"Fuzzy thief!" I muttered. I felt bad for the dog four times its size.

In months that followed, I spotted blue and red gleams in stores, later at my exams. I ignored them, certain my brain made things up. I'd been working as a radiologist months when, walking to the subway at dusk, I noticed a gleam. A punk with a reversed baseball cap red as an electric stove burner stalked an old woman enveloped in blue mist.

Blue and red flares in a sea of grey shades, black shadows, and colorless gleams; I had to follow.

Near the bottom of the stairs, he snatched her purse, knocking her down. Everyone looked when she screamed, not spotting the punk. He didn't run until all eyes left him. Unsure what possessed me—memory of Gran who died when I was 8? I stepped closer to the top of the stairs.

"Hey!" I cried.

He didn't hear and barreled into me at full speed. I barely avoid striking his forehead as spun. We hit the wall together, but I knocked over the trash and rolled into the spilt mess.

The guy cursed, scrambled up, and dashed away.

Stunned and bruised, with a ripped shirt, I sat by the trash. The old woman stepped up cautiously. I blinked and focused up; in my black and white world, electric blue crackled around her. She eyed me suspiciously, leaning forward. Instead of offering a hand, she snatched her purse to her chest and rushed away.

I realized later she though me homeless; probably expected cash.

Life sometimes gives you clues. Years after losing my color vision, I had a great job as a med-tech. I enjoyed the work far easier than long-haul trucking, paid far more than Pa ever dreamed. My coworkers where friendly; we got lunch off and we weekly went for drinks after work.

Crimefighting? Knocked over into the trash, shirt ripped, nose bloodied, with naught but the memory of a Gran giving me the stink-eye.

BIG CLUE!

A grey life wasn't bad. Color warned me where /not/ to look. Ok, occasionally I pointed out a red-glow shoplifter to Ol' Bob at the convenience store. The blue or red glows I saw in crowds, shopping, or in the park... those I did ignore.

When I saw a cop standing on a street corner, glowing red, I became really uncomfortable. Not a stereotypical donut eating f—up. He looked like an all-American football star from a decade or so ago, grey starting at his temples. Teeth: sparkling. Uniform: immaculate...

An unhappy Pakistani walked from /Layla Tailor/ and shook hands with the officer. The cop walked away putting his hand in his pocket.

Why did I follow?

Because of the blinding red glow?

I noticed the man haunted the downtown district. I saw him greeting faintly red chain-wielding gang members. Once he gabbed with someone dressed like a clown; you could extort protection from anyone, except, the clown had a red nose. Red. Definitely red.

I got myself a portable camera because raising a cellphone to my face felt too obvious. A bit late, I discovered why the black case Leica was slightly more expensive than the silver. Reflections.

Officer Mason looked my way.

[2½ hrs. Author retains copyright.]

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