Red

The colour red lies at the end of the visible spectrum of light. Because colours travel at different wavelengths, some are easier to see than others. In the case of red Professor Roy Hinkley hears it first. It comes with a crash and a yell and a series of pounding footsteps until it's right under his nose accompanied by the tang of salt and sweat and youthful joy. It encases a skinny, heaving torso flecked with tar and dirt. It hurts his eyes and jars his brain. Whoever decided red was the colour of danger made a good choice. Gilligan is living proof.

As the sun goes down and Ginger strolls across the clearing, she is fully bathed in red. From the volcanic eruption of her hair to the sequins of her gown flashing bright enough to blind him, from the crimson glow of her shoulders to the silken landscape of her smooth, hairless calves, she is a Goddess of Fire shooting scarlet flames into his soul. At the end of a very hectic day he stands at the window gazing out. Not at the inarguably beautiful sunset, but at her. And while he's not the most romantic man in the world, he understands why red became the designated colour of passion. Ginger Grant is red.

There was never much room for red in Roy Hinkley's routine and somewhat restricted life, but somehow it forced its way in. The whooping and shouting red, the softly singing, enticing red, and even the bright red drops in the sand that prove how hard he works to find solutions to their plight.

He's surrounded by red.

He's drowning in red.

He's filled with red.

He's just not brave enough to wear it yet.