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Above the restless city, Mara found a forgotten

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rooftop: cracked terracotta pots, an empty water barrel,

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and a view nobody stopped to notice.

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She carried one wooden planter upstairs, filled it

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with dark soil, and pressed a handful of

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sunflower seeds beneath the surface.

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For weeks, nothing seemed to happen, but every

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evening she returned with her blue watering can

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while the windows below began to glow.

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Then a storm arrived, bending the first green

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shoots, and Mara sheltered the little planter beside

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the old brick chimney until the wind passed.

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By morning, the leaves were battered but upright;

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she added bamboo supports and discovered a tiny

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yellow bud turning toward the light.

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Summer opened the rooftop into gold, with tall

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sunflowers, bright tomatoes, and bees moving between the

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blossoms as the city hummed far below.

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Mara set a second chair beside her own,

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left the rooftop door open, and watched a

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neighbor arrive carrying a small pot of mint.

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The skyline had not changed, but the roof

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had become a place to stay: one small

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garden, and enough room for someone else.