Not Rapunzel

The woman with a broken heart decided to plant some flowers. All around her house. Everywhere. It was her own hopeful outcry. It was good for her until it felt lonely, and it did feel lonely, surrounded by all those flowers dancing under the sunlight that didn’t even know her name.

“Why does no one come to visit my flowers up close?”

They griped about weeds, but said nothing when there was flowers.

She decided to plant flowers outside her window sill; maybe that would grab their attention. Moreover, it gave her an excuse to lean out the window as she pampered and watered her flowers. No one would question her.

Everyday her flowers multiplied in quantity. They became brighter and danced harder in the breeze as she leaned further and further out the window.

Until she fell. 

They never noticed her flowers, but her dead body that had fallen from three stories high.