She had never had this happen to her before.

She knew the day was coming - it was inevitable, of course - but none of her pep talks or preparation prepared her for the frustration and hopelessness that was slowly creeping up her bones.

"There has to be room, maybe if I just- no. No, I can't cover that one." Rapunzel hissed to herself, trying to measure space and proportion using her delicate hands. "Maybe over by the window? Or what if I paint the- no. I did that last week."

Like a madwoman, she thrust her empty palette to the ground. She chewed the end of her paintbrush as she paced the open space of her tower frantically, searching for an empty swath of wall under her table or near her standing mirror.

She had finally done it.

She had finally covered every blank space across her tower walls. Her domed ceiling was a full gallery of her interpretations of stars and planets, and self portraits of herself thriving in the outside world. Even her furnishings were covered in her brush strokes, dazzling color all around her.

But instead of being proud of her artistry, she felt hollow. The murals meant nothing to her, except serving as a colorful reminder of the hours she lost to her pigments and walls and a lifetime of dreams that were beginning to feel impossible. She saw sprawled out on her walls the hours that she had dreamed of spending lying on the grass and making flower crowns with Pascal and learning to swim. Hours she longed to enjoy in the company of the thousands of people she was sure existed somewhere beyond her tower.

Rapunzel collapsed in her bed, the pillows and covers jumping under her weight. She was disappointed in herself for letting her mind wander to such a hopeless place. After nearly eighteen years of solitude, finding the best in a situation was something of a speciality to her. But the realization of how claustrophobic her own artwork felt was beginning to weigh on her chest like an anvil.

Pascal scurried up to his best friend. Rapunzel lifted her face so that her nose touched his and with a renewed sense of determination - and just a little bit of desperation - announced her the beginning of her plan.

"We have to get out of here, Pascal."

A/N: I found this little Drabble on my phone. I kind of forgot I started it on public transit one day, and decided I had no idea where it was going. Rapunzel's tower feels like a character in and of itself, and I wanted to run with the idea that by covering every available surface in her prison with her dreams and goals, that even her tower was encouraging her to break free. I'm learning that I like writing little moments a lot more than major plots, and I hope you'll enjoy these moments that seem to come to me out of thin air on subway cars and buses. :) Bisous, A.