Yamanaka Ino liked to think her life was simple and that all the things she experienced were just normal, everyday kind of stuff that happened every day in her gray city. Nothing except the vague barking of two dogs next door, and that of her own dog Apollo; sound can travel for miles but each time her ears twitched in recognition of a sound it seemed far away, like she was.

Grass which was a weirdly enthusiastic shade of green smiled up at her from under her window begging to be froliced and danced in, only after the fatal mistake had been made would the person realize the hundreds of little burrs and nettles down their clothes. Light breezes whipped up the dull scent of Ino's ridiculous garden behind the house and filled her room, possibly the whole house, with the narcotic aroma of flowering plants.

She worked in the garden every day shovelling away dirt to some other plant so all the flowers bloomed equally beautiful. Ino wasn't blessed with a green thumb that allowed her to step foot on any soil and immediately have flowers pop up from the dirt. Her garden held every kind of color one could think of, blending into one another to subtly the eye could only take in the full charm by glancing sideways at it. She had never intended to invent something that pretty, she didn't have a green thumb, sometimes the world makes a little miracle of it's own without the nagging voice God pestering her. There were small bushes of roses everywhere around the garden; Ino's idea for once.

No one knew her enough to know clothes she really would like to wear everyday out in the world. Clothes express someone, her's would say she's grounded in the real world only when she isn't dreaming in her own. People would know that she likes listening but can gush for hours about herself when she's drunk, they say you're honest when you're drunk but Ino is rarely honest. To fight the truth under the influence her mouth just gabs about herself.

But the roses, she wears those on the outside everyday of her life. They expressed Ino's secret obsession which kept her up at night bouncing off the walls in her mind. Her roses spoke of the crazy passion she harbored for love. She wanted to fall in love with someone wonderful who liked the books she read or wanted to watch movies she liked. Of course, she wasn't looking for herself.

Ino was tangled in the three bedsheets she used as a blanket in the summer, head lounging in the semi-darkness under her pillows. Whoever she was going to fall in love with not in the bed, groaning about having to get up.

Her roses would keep her happy until someone moved into her life.

A / n - This was on original story, the main character is Baylyn Peters so if Ino's name isn't Ino, that's why.