It’s funny how when two stories combine and become one they no longer make sense on their own. And then when they do split, it’s as if the before has been erased. All this time you think your story has been written in ink yet in that moment of parting you see the pencil contours. Making sense on your own is quite difficult when there’s no permanence to refer to.
But grey isn’t half as bad. You might even prefer it to blue. And it’s far better than black.