She runs her fingers through her hair as she swings her feet out of the spacious bed. Each toe touches the floor and eventually she finds her way to the kitchen. Today was going to be a good day.
As soon as her hand wraps itself around the nearest sharpie, she runs outside. The yellow flower outside her yard had always taunted her. For the longest time she had wanted to use it for something magical. She made herself comfortable as she pulled the flowers roots out of the ground. On every other petal she wrote "he loves me" and on the others she wrote "he loves me not."
In a hushed tone she told the flower her story, a story of an unknown love that desperately needed to be found. Her fingers gripped the first petal and she chanted the words as she slowly tore it off. The next petal was chanted also and a pattern was created. As each part of the flower hit the ground a tear was placed near it. Love was tearing her apart and she was afraid the flower would give her a heart wrenching answer. It was the tenth petal, the final petal, and she held the flower to her heaving chest.
"he loves me" slipped off of her tongue as she thanked the flower repeatedly.
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