Elvisha looked like the type who would say a thing like that. Machine 101 made a note. She went on.
“I’d like a grey that’s more than a grey, a grey that speaks of foreign adventures, of climactic moments, of momentous indecision.”
“How about one of these?” the clerk at the hardware store presented a tab featuring four different shades. Elvisha barely looked at the card.
“A grey like the dream of a humpback whale, drifting in the sea at night, alone with the stars. A grey like a thirty-eight hour bus ride through an endless, invisible forest. A grey like a four dimensional tile, etching its weather-beaten life story through the ages.”
Machine 101 deleted the note. It must have made a mistake. Elvisha was a different type altogether.