Just like the sunflowers by the side of the wall, she is fragile. Yet, sometimes, people turn a blind eye to the resilience within delicate beings. A seedling sprouting from the side of the wall, blossoming into beautiful sunflowers. How delightful.
Maybe that is a good thing though. No one would suspect the poor mistreated wife. Once she is at her brother’s place, she will wash the knife clean of blood and hide it among his kitchenware. No one would know.
Smiling to herself, she plucks a few sunflowers. They would brighten up her house, not that it is really necessary now that her adulterous husband is gone forever.
Written in response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers #50