A big bouquet full of red, white, and blue roses was sitting on the kitchen island when Charles went downstairs to grab something to eat for breakfast. There was a note, a little black card showing in between the white of the wrapping paper.
» Everything beautiful comes with pain, roses have thorns, don't they? «
Was the writing on the note, no name, no date, no nothing except for that simple question? Charles had no idea how it even got here, but then why wouldn't it have a name? He filled up a vase with mid-temperature water and rested the bouquet inside of it so they wouldn't die so soon.
There was something about those roses that he made sure to ask his mother about it sometime today. Charles grabbed some of the banana pancakes sitting on a pan on the stove. While he managed to cut the pancakes into smaller pieces a message came through.
« Lovely roses don't you think? »
The Monegasque boy was still very confused but he opened the chat reading the message, thinking how to respond to it, no questions asked.
« They go well with your eyes... »
Charles read before he even got a chance to answer.
« A good choice, but I think I would prefer them if I knew from who they are. »
« But, what would be the fun in that? »
Charles wanted to know, but he knew better than just ask, so he invited his friend over. This French boy named Pierre appeared at the door not so long after Charles had texted him. "Hey! Thanks for coming." "Of course, what is it?"
Instead of telling Pierre what happened, the younger boy just showed him, first the roses with the note, then the message. The number was private and not from Monaco as the number after the plus was 32, and that wasn't French either as the number would read +33 if it was.
Pierre got to work, as he learned from his girlfriend and her friends that they can find anyone, you just need the resources. First, he googled the indicative of the phone number, finding its origin in Belgium.
Then he asked Charles to keep him updated on any text messages he received, from the mysterious person, and sent back. Pierre was the most gossip-related person Charles knew, and he knows a lot of people. He can, however, put up with his best friend's craziness more than he can put up with his own shit sometimes.
The French man disappeared through the front door after laying out everything he need Charles to do or to say. He needed clues, clues of who this person might be, and there was none yet. Just moments after another text message came through.
« You know what those mean right? »
« Those what? The flowers? Haven't had the opportunity to search. »
Was the monegasque's answer to the mysterious person's question. He knew that he had made a mental note to ask his mom about it later in the day, but I guess it'll have to be sooner than expected. "Maman?" "Oui chérie?" "J'ai besoin de votre aide pour quelque chose..." "Quoi chérie?"
"Quelle est la signification des roses ?" He asked, suddenly not feeling so comfortable with the situation. "Eh bien, les roses sont généralement liées à l'amour et à la passion. Pourquoi?" Yes, he definitely wasn't as comfortable with the situation. "Rien d'important... Et ses couleurs? Vous aimez le rouge, le blanc et le bleu?"
"Le rouge est la couleur de l'amour et de l'admiration." Predictable, he thought. "Le blanc peut signifier l'innocence et un nouvel amour." New Love? How come? "Flou est cependant un contraste, cela signifie mystère." That makes sense... "Mais tout cela pourrait signifier autre chose, je ne le saurai jamais."
