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          Everything was passion and flash, whirlwind rides on the roller coaster of love. Blue would see Pink and feel its heart sink. "This can't last," Blue thought to itself early on, "This is just infatuation." Blue would feel its body trying to tie itself into knots at the very idea of Pink. There had never, in its whole life, been anyone in the world that Blue had been more attracted to.
          And it seemed like the feeling was mutual.
          Pink insinuated itself into Blue's heart, staked out its territory and laid claim. Pink owned Blue. Blue found itself thinking about Pink at all hours of the day. Blue would be at work at the nursery, cradling the head of some sweet innocent infant, and a slo-jam video of last night's lovemaking would play through its mind. And, as if Pink could read it, Pink would be there, waiting for Blue when it got off work, to wrap itself around Blue and take them off on another adventure.
          They came from totally different worlds and this was part of the attraction as well. Pink took Blue to hip clubs full of skinny belts slung low on gyrating hips. Supposedly Pink had a job in security, but mostly Pink just hung around looking fabulous. And that was fine by Blue.
          For Pink, Blue was the first lover that Pink could really trust. Pink told Blue things it had never told anyone. Pink had always been an over-the-top partyer, but even a partyer needs a confidante. Blue was its deep, secret love. When Pink's friends talked about Blue they'd say, "Blue seems okay," and almost mean it. Blue didn't give a shit about Pink's friends. What did they have to do with this crazy sexy passionate storm that Blue was caught up in?
          "You're perfect. You're beautiful. You're all mine." Things that might sound creepy coming from anyone else made Blue shiver when Pink said them. They fucked often and anywhere. Blue delighted in thinking up new ways to please Pink, and new surprises for it. For the first time in its life, Blue had met someone who might be able to work a way into the core of its being without totally wrecking it. And this was a huge deal, so Blue tried not to think about it too much. Instead, Blue would tell Pink to meet it in the bathroom, or by the windowsill and lose itself in the fucking.
          Blue felt addicted to Pink, to its touch, to the way Pink looked at it, to Pink's cold metal smell. Blue felt like everything that had come before was a pale imitation of love. For sure, this was the real thing. The colors were brighter when Pink was around, and Pink was always the brightest thing Blue could see. When they were together Blue couldn't concentrate on anything else, Pink was everywhere at once, filling Blue's senses completely.
          It never let up, not even for a moment. And with passion like this, everything else fades into the background. Blue regarded all those comfortable cozy couples with a touch of contempt. Blue could not imagine sitting through a movie next to Pink without feeling its wandering touch, without wanting to touch Pink back. Blue let itself become irresponsible, selfish, showed up late to meet friends because it had been busy fucking Pink, disappeared from parties to emerge half a hour later from the closet, disheveled with Pink in tow.
          Pink became soft with Blue. For the first time, Pink didn't feel like it had something to prove, didn't feel like it had to pretend to be stronger or more important than it actually was. It never once worried about not being good enough for Blue, and after the U-Lock and the Sledgehammer, this was a relief. Before Blue, Pink had always run after objects that someone cruel might have described as 'out of Pink's league.' It was a comfort for once, to feel like the one being chased.
          Blue took on the sleek look of an object well-satisfied, and Pink's harsher edges mellowed. And although the things that each of them got from each other were wildly different, Blue and Pink were madly in love.