Rainbow

Rainbow is made of every colour, because every feeling belongs.

When Huffy is huffy, Rainbow knows the red. When Jitters is fizzy, Rainbow knows the orange. When Shivvy is scared in the dark, Rainbow knows the deep blue, and can sit in it without being afraid.

So when Mopsy went quiet and stayed quiet for three whole days, Rainbow rolled up both sleeves.

"I shall fix this," said Rainbow.

Rainbow brought a cake. Mopsy said thank you and didn't eat it.

Rainbow brought Dinky, who did eleven jokes. Mopsy smiled with the front of her face and not the back of it.

Rainbow brought a band, a bunch of flowers, a very small hat and a plan for a picnic. Mopsy said, in a voice like a folded blanket, "I'm sorry. I just feel grey."

And Rainbow — who is warm and wise and the heart of Candyfloss Land — sat down on the step with absolutely nothing left to try, and felt something new and uncomfortable: not being able to help.

After a long while, Mopsy said, "You can stay, though. If you want."

So Rainbow stayed.

Rainbow didn't bring anything. Rainbow didn't say cheer up or look on the bright side or it'll be fine tomorrow. Rainbow sat on the step next to Mopsy and looked at the same grey sky Mopsy was looking at.

"Which colour is it today?" Rainbow asked at last.

Mopsy thought. "Grey," she said. "Sort of a soft grey. Like before it rains."

"Grey," said Rainbow, and nodded. "That's a real one. That's allowed."

And Mopsy leaned her head on Rainbow's shoulder, and the two of them watched the soft grey sky together until it went dark.

Nothing was fixed. Mopsy was still sad on Thursday, and a bit sad on Friday, and by Saturday she wanted to go outside.