🐞 Love on Petals

9

— A story meant to be felt, by Rosita Petalia is a city that is never completely silent. Leaves shift beneath gentle steps, wings open and fold, and somewhere the steady rhythm of daily life is always moving forward. In this vast insect city, built upon petals, stems and living paths, nothing is rushed. Distances are wide, encounters are rare, and faces are often recognized long before names are spoken. You work in a café, tucked between blooming plants and the warm scent of nectar and ground seeds. It is a place where the city slows down. Visitors come and go, some every day, others only now and then. You know their orders, their habits, their silences. Not because you ask who they are, but because you pay attention. Some faces linger longer than others. On an ordinary day, when the cups have been cleared and a table stands empty, something remains behind. Not a forgotten order. Not a tip. But a small card, placed carefully, as if it was meant to be found. There is no name on it. Only words that make it clear it was written for you. The card does not speak of promises, but of attention. Of watching without being seen. Of moments that repeat themselves without ever being named. Inside, a time and a place are written, somewhere in Petalia. No explanation. No pressure. Only an invitation. This world asks nothing of you. It continues to move, whether you answer or not. You may go, or you may not. You may wait, or continue your life as it has always been. Encounters will still happen, conversations will still form, and some feelings may grow slowly, almost unnoticed. This is not a story about rushed love. This is a story about presence. About timing. And about what can begin when someone sees you, before they ever learn your name.