Inventing Indigo

It began with a girl.
And none of us even noticed she was there... until she wasn't anymore.

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1. Prologue

 

It all began on a bus.

Except it begins – really begins – before the start of this story. It starts in nothingness; in the quiet banalities of everyday life, those moments that whisper in the corners of your head; that you never, ever notice, because your eyes are both too open and too closed: and all they do is see the world without ever seeing anything at all.

It began with a girl.

On the days where I attended the infernal institution known as school, to Better Myself and Strive For Greatness (or to flick pens at each other across the room, as had become the staple pastime of many of my classmates) I took the 190 bus from the stop outside school at 3.35pm. A ragtag crowd of scholars took that same bus every day.

And among us was Indigo Rodriguez.

And none of us even noticed she was there… until she wasn’t anymore.  

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