rapunzel is nothing if not a creature of habit, a victim of ROUTINE.
she comes to the cemetery every friday. it isn’t because she knows anyone resting
here ( honestly, she hasn’t lived here long enough to know much of anyone, alive or
dead ). rather, she visits every friday because friday is the day where the small floral
shop she works in throws away the fresh cuts that didn’t sell, be it because they start
to wilt or their stems have been damaged by the small hands of curious children. it’s a
sin just to throw such BEAUTIFUL flowers away. someone could still appreciate
them, and rapunzel’s found people who do or would, had they not been buried under
six feet of earth.
it’s sad to think that some people don’t get visitors anymore. maybe their families moved
away, or they’ve been dead for so long that anyone who would remember them has since
passed as well. maybe they just never had anyone to visit them. so, rapunzel visits them,
everyone, once a week with her arms cradling bundles of flowers and a book tucked away
in her messenger bag. she likes to read to them some days, too. she likes to think that
anyone’s who was lonely could come and sit with her.
rapunzel steps steps away from the tombstone of one ernest elliot only to bump into one of
the living. she gasps, watching tangles of petals and stems fall out from between her arms.
❛ oh ! i’m so sorry, i should have been watching where i was going. ❜
HE’S QUITE USED to her presence. she’s there like his own clock-work.
he’s seen her put down the FLOWERS. he’d have to make them look as nice as the
rest. he didn’t mind so much -- no, not when these poor souls were getting attention.
she put flowers on sam & sully’s graves. that was enough for him.
she’s there so often that he oft forgets she’s THERE to begin with. so, it’s not hard to
imagine he’d run straight into her, dropping some gardening tools ---- one hitting him in
the foot. ❛ MOTHER-- HAH. hi. it’s okay. ❜ he puts on a forced smile & holds his foot
slightly. ❛ here, let me help, ❜ he offers up,
