My favourite question to ask people is "what is your favourite colour and why?" Mine has always been red. It represents so many emotions and spectrums, and—not to mention—is one of our primary colours. It is angry and hateful, but it is the colour of love. It is the blood of war and the blood of life. It is the red of passion and pleasure, but it is the red of the devil and his sins. It is fortune and revolution, and it is danger and desire. Red was my shy smile and my flushed cheeks; it was the warmth of being tucked under his arms and the cold of weeping into my pillow, longing for those arms to steady me. Red was the shade of my lips the day we first met, and it was the same shade the day they first brushed against his. It was the lipstick I sampled on his hand and smudged on his jacket–the one he never took to the dry cleaner's because it carried a mark of me. Red was the rose in my Waris Shah book, and it was his abhorrence surfacing when my flaws di...