A Drift Through the Petals

The quiet rooms inside felt sleepy after lunch, so I slipped out through the propped courtyard gate and wandered down the sun-dappled alley to a wooden flower stall. Near the bottom shelf of a display cart sat a wide, shallow galvanized tub used to keep fresh cut stems cool. Resting right at the water's glassy surface was a stray crimson rose petal, cupped gently like an unmoored skiff. Leaning in with an unhurried, patient push of my soft flank, I gave the tub's cool zinc rim a gentle nudge. A tiny shudder passed across the water, coaxing the floating petal to drift lazily in a wide, shimmering spiral until it tapped softly against my resting fin. I lingered there against the cool metal, watching the ripples slowly settle into the afternoon calm.