Violet

Eb and Flow across the street had a giant purple couch delivered today. In the pelting rain.

Rian pulled hat over hair and long coat about shoulders and, barefoot, went to investigate.

"Nice couch," Rian said, standing shoulder to shoulder with Eb as the delivery men grunted the couch from the back of a truck. "Purple."

"Mmmm," said Eb, doing a very good imitation of Rian.

"Very large," Rian included, knowing well that the interior of Eb and Flow's tiny cottage is cluttered with all things Danish. And rather yellow.

"Grand nephew's coming back," Eb admitted. "For the school year."

This did not explain satisfactorily the Mystery of the Purple Couch. Rian, now cold and wet and defeated, wandered back home.

Foiled. Drat.