White Palms, Pure Love

Uncle Gerry has white palms like the color of cotton. But his complexion is not pallid. Kids like me have white palms too. I mean, all of us have white palms until adolescence or until we get a crush on some pretty girls. By then our palms would become orange like the tangerine sky of twilight. My parents' palms have been green like a virgin forest since my birth. They had been whites before they got acquainted, turned orange in the first few months of father's courtship with mother, and then turned red when they got engaged and eventually tied the knot.

I ask Uncle Gerry if there was a time when his palms were orange. He says, yes, of course, every person gets to a point in life when his heart would beat faster for someone. I know a bunch of my classmates with orange palms. Most of them stuttered before their crushes on campus. I also see some with white palms like me in freshmen. We only care for our studies for the time being.