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missy-foxie · 6 hours ago

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The Notes at My Door.

November was nearing its end, and winter was already announcing itself with icy whispers through the trees. The mornings were growing colder, the streets quieter, and the days shorter. Business was booming, with customers streaming in daily. I had taken to calling November “the best month.”

When I left my previous career, I wasn’t sure if I’d made the right choice. The transition had been tough, filled with second guesses and sleepless nights. But now, I couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Running my own shop was fulfilling in a way I’d never anticipated. Each day brought something new, and even the smallest interactions left a smile on my face.

That morning, after a simple breakfast of toast and coffee, I bundled up in my favorite wool scarf and headed out. The streets were alive in their usual way—neighbors hurrying off to work, street vendors setting up stalls, and children walking briskly to school, their breath visible in the frosty air. I exchanged brief nods and smiles with a few familiar faces, comforted by the sense of community in this little town.

As I approached my shop, something unusual caught my eye. A small note was pinned to the door. I glanced around instinctively, hoping to spot who might’ve left it, but the street was empty save for a passerby or two, lost in their own worlds.

Curious, I took the note, slipping it into my pocket as I unlocked the door. The shop was my sanctuary—cozy, warm, and brimming with life from the plants, flowers, and trinkets I’d curated. I set about my morning routine: watering the plants, adjusting the displays, and brewing a fresh pot of tea for the first customers of the day.

Once everything was ready, I finally settled into my favorite corner of the shop, unwrapping the note. The handwriting was neat but unassuming, and the message was simple:

“Dear Miss Petra,

Good morning and have a nice day ahead.

— A.”

I read it twice, then a third time, trying to decipher its meaning. Was it a random act of kindness? A customer showing their appreciation? Or was it something more personal? The “A” gave away little—no name, no context.

I shrugged it off for the moment, placing the note on my counter and turning my attention to the day ahead. Today was quite busy. Some people sat around chatting while sipping the aromatic tea I made, while others stopped by just to buy fertilizer, bouquets, or accessories.

Then, my gaze landed on someone sitting at the corner of the room, facing the window overlooking the tree next to the shop. That man was glancing at me now and then—no, I’m not imagining it! I’m sure he was looking at me.

Does he need something? I wondered.

The note still lingered in the back of my mind.

Around midday, during a rare lull in the day, I found myself gazing out the window. A figure across the street caught my attention. They were partially hidden by a lamppost, bundled in a long coat with the collar turned up. Something about the way they glanced in my direction made me pause.

Could that be A?

Before I could make up my mind, they disappeared around the corner, leaving me with more questions than answers.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of sales and conversations. As I closed up shop that evening, I found myself lingering by the door, scanning the street one last time before locking up. The note had been kind, thoughtful even, but its mystery had me hooked.

The next morning, as I approached my shop, my heart skipped a beat. Another note was waiting for me, taped neatly to the door.

“Dear Miss Petra,

Thank you for the beauty you bring to this town.

— A.”

This time, I couldn’t dismiss it as mere coincidence. Whoever A was, they seemed to know me—or at least appreciate my work.

The pattern continued over the next few days. Each morning, I found a new note waiting for me, each one more personal than the last.

“Dear Miss Petra,

Your tea is the best I’ve ever had.

— A.”

“Dear Miss Petra,

Your shop feels like a warm hug on a cold day. Thank you.

— A.”

I started looking for clues, watching the street more closely and questioning my regular customers. But no one gave anything away.

Finally, after nearly a week of notes, I decided to leave one of my own. I taped it to the door before heading home one evening.

“Dear A,

Thank you for your kind words. I’d love to meet you.

— Petra.”

The next morning, the note was gone. My heart raced as I unlocked the shop, wondering if today would bring a new message—or perhaps, the mysterious A in person.

The bell above the door jingled as I prepared the shop for another busy day. I turned to greet my first customer, only to stop short. It was the figure from across the street—the one I’d noticed before.

They smiled shyly, holding out a note.

“Good morning, Miss Petra,” they said softly. “I’m A.”

And i realize, he's the same person who glanced at me at the shop, that guy at the corner of the room.

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missy-foxie · 19 days ago

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The answers.

1. i'll be away for awhile and move to another account with different face claim.

2. Minya unnie! she's cute and funny!!! 🤩

3. i would rather have a lover.

4. sleep in bed with 2 wolfs, i'm not scared of them, 난 구미호야!

5. rotten smelling drink. WHO ASKED THIS DAMN QUESTION!?

6. insects.

7. 0

8. i'm gonna play games and clowning myself and prank you all 😗

9. i'm gonna be in jail because of: deep loving someone who i never dare to talk to.

10. my ex was cheated on me, when i caught him, he said it's just playing around and i need to be chill. chill you ass.

11. i will never end that. he's my safe place, that means i feel happy to be around him, so i would wait no matter how long it takes. if he prefers no commitment, then i'll go with that (SIMP).

12. DISGUSTING QUESTION FR. DRINK.

13. yes. like i said before, my ex was cheated. at first, i tolerate him when he said he's just playing around because i love him so much (dumb), so we get back together. but then i found him cheating again with another account. i knew it was him because i know his typing so well. the lesson i took from that is: dont ever give a cheater a second chance. once a cheater, will stay as a cheater.

14. drink.

15. this is my question and i'm thinking about to give up. 😩

16. special to my gals @.Kaninaaespa @.aericaendesu @.Yizio @.Liashete @.shimyunya

17. Hug Me by Joonil Jung

18. say hi to Chaeri and Chaeso!

19. drink.

— for stellarspies purposes.

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missy-foxie · 27 days ago

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The florist, Petra Fletcher.

Petra Fletcher was the kind of person people admired, but few could keep up with. She was one of those journalists you’d hear about in the big city, working tirelessly, always chasing a story, and rarely stopping to take a breath. Her name appeared on the biggest headlines, her photo flashed on TV screens, and her resume? It was stacked with prestigious awards. But as the awards piled up, so did a gnawing sense of emptiness she couldn’t shake.

She is lonely.

One sleepless night, Petra sat in her small apartment, staring out over the twinkling city lights, and wondered if this was all life had to offer. Sure, she was a top journalist, but was she happy? The answer, she realized, was no.

After weeks of thinking what choice she would take, Petra made a bold choice: she was leaving journalism. She packed up her apartment, said her goodbyes to her coworkers, and moved to a quiet town with little more than a few boxes and a dream.

Now, Petra spends her days among flowers. She owns a small florist shop where she arranges vibrant bouquets and greets her neighbors by name. The pace is slower, her days are simpler, and her heart feels lighter. She may not be on magazine covers anymore, but she’s found something even better, peace and a fresh start with a scents of flowers.

— Petra Fletcher, for stellarspiesrp event purpose.

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missy-foxie · 6 months ago

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About Petra Fletcher.

Petra Fletcher had it all— wealth, privilege, and a family name that opened doors in Auckland's elite circles. But beneath the facade of luxury, Petra craved something more fulfilling than society soirées and designer labels.

Enrolling in a journalism program at a college in Auckland was Petra's rebellion against the expectations of her well-to-do family. She yearned to tell stories that mattered, to shine a light on injustices, and to give voice to the voiceless. As a journalism student, Petra's days were a vast of lectures, interviews, and late-night study sessions. She immersed herself in the bustling city, soaking up its energy and diversity, and finding inspiration in its stories.

Despite initial skepticism from peers who assumed she was just another wealthy student seeking to fill her time, Petra proved herself with dedication and talent. Her articles resonated with readers, tackling pressing issues with insight and empathy. Petra's journey wasn't without its challenges— balancing her studies with family obligations and navigating the expectations of her upbringing tested her resolve. But with each obstacle, Petra grew stronger, more determined to forge her own path.

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