Wet Paint, by Roshanna Sidney Evans

The fence was wet. Gooey purple. It looked edible and Jasmine wished there was a topping she could drip over her ice cream like that. Marshmallow violets. Sigh. Not happening. Instead she left her fingerprints everywhere, her Ode to World. 

I exist. 
Memory hands on Marshmallow Violets.
Permanent. Powerful. Forever.
Unforgettable.
Me.

“Jasmine, stop that!” Mr. Gossamer yelled as he raced across the front lawn. “Get away from my fence,” he said, shoving her. 
“They are Forget-me-knots, Daddy,” Jasmine smirked. “Your daughter, remember.” 
His eyes, livid. 
Her eyes smiled as she extracted the pistol from her pocket. 
“Boom. Boom.”