Having a color somewhere between white and black, as the ash of an ember.
That's the meaning dictionary gives you, when you look for this word.
But if you ask me, to define her life in one word, perhaps it won't be awful or remarkable or any other regular word. Gray is the way she's been existing, always between the lines. Nobody likes to have lived a gray life, deprived of all the colors. But what choice do you have when life snatches away every shade. Each color discarded, every umbrage ruined...only to leave behind a trail of achromatic gloom.. Do you understand what it is to be like ash? Why ash, you ask. Because she burns a little bit inside, everyday, to be certain of living. To be sure that her breaths mean something. Not to someone, but to her own self.
Inspite of everything, she tries to blend in, to merge. She will take a tinge of you and mix it with her gray. And you'll wonder if that would make any difference to her world.
But gradually, with every new hue, I see her gray diminishing. The gray skies are finally resigning, making way for the azure sky. She stands there, at the meeting of both, with open arms, hoping to see a rainbow.