Here’s the thing about Rapunzel, she was a DJ and lived on the second floor and truth be told, it wasn’t but a twenty-foot drop from her window to the street.
She had cut her hair when she was eighteen and has rocked an indigo blue mohawk ever since. Colorful inked images of dragons and Pegasus and butterflies cover her back and arms. We used to joke that if she was ever locked away in her apartment, she could just fly away with all those wings.
And her prince? I wish I could say he pulled up on his old Indian motorcycle looking for me, but that would be a lie. He had found her combat boot at the rave the night before and tracked her down to return it. I saw the whole thing through my screen door.
In case you think I’m fibbing, or mixing up my stories, let me ask you this…does it matter? Was she happy, you ask? Happy enough. Happy as she made her own life. You see what I’m saying?