Daisy grew at the edge of the garden, where the tall roses blocked the sun and the heavy peonies cast long shadows. She was small, white, and simple. The other flowers barely noticed her.
“You’re so tiny,” a rose said one morning. “Do you even matter?”
Daisy looked down at her thin stem and small petals. “Maybe I don’t,” she whispered.
That night, a young rabbit hopped into the garden. He was lost, cold, and hungry. He passed by the roses—too thorny. He passed by the peonies—too heavy. He passed by the tulips—too tall.
Then he saw Daisy. She was small enough to reach, soft enough