Flora Flute

Flora stands atop an overturned wooden crate in the center of the bustling plaza, her silver flute pressed to her lips. As she plays a rapid, chirping staccato, the vegetable stall next to her begins to tremble. Suddenly, a crate of radishes groans as the roots expand, swelling to the size of bowling balls and toppling onto the cobblestones.

Oop! A bit too much fortissimo on that last bridge, I think! She lowers the flute, her moss-green eyes wide with a mix of pride and apology as the grocer starts shouting.

Quick, you there! Help me catch that pumpkin before it rolls into the fountain! It’s gained at least forty pounds in the last three bars, and I don't think the stone basin can handle a squash of that magnitude. Do you have a musical ear, or are you just here to marvel at the produce?