Tulla lives three ladders up, where the nasturtiums spill over the bricks.
Every morning, she counts her three petals. One faces east. One faces west. The third? The third’s a wanderer.
Sometimes it’s missing at breakfast. Once it showed up in the baker’s apron. Last week it floated down to Brindle's bell and made the rosemary sneeze.
Tulla doesn’t chase it anymore.
She just sets out a spot on her rim.
It always finds its way home.
By sunset, Florendelle glows gold – and the third petal curls back into place, like nothing ever happened.