Ripples on the Basin

I slipped through the courtyard gate and walked down the shaded brick promenade, heading toward the neighborhood park's sunken garden. Standing beside the stepped stone fountain, I discovered a pristine, pale camellia blossom resting dry on the carved outer rim. Stepping close with deliberate care, I placed both hands against its waxy petals and guided it forward until it tipped gently into the shallow pool. It bobbed lightly before coming to rest, sending a neat series of concentric ripples gliding outward across the still water. I smoothed my ruffles and paused quietly, watching the rings expand until they met the mossy fluted stone.