Perfect

i woke up this morning remembering when i was little, playing with coloring books. i was having a dream. in my dream, i was sitting with someone i knew, and i was asking him to hand me the green crayon, that was the one i wanted. the green crayon, which would color in this specific part of what i was doing. that's the only one that could work for this section of paper. this little black-outlined blank space? only the green could possibly work for it, how could you think of giving me anything else. ugh, and you pass me the whole box? tack on another 30 seconds to my day.. why couldn't you have just handed me the green, the way i.. wait a second. what's that one called? no, not that one, the one behind it. yes, the orange one, am i being obtuse? so what, i sort of like that one. actually, that one.. that one's perfect. ok, so it's not what i thought i wanted. it's not what i had planned out for myself. but the more i look at it, the more i think about it, the more right it seems. even in it's surprise appearance.