@vvhippoorwill asked: 'Looks like we missed each other.' the note stuck to the flat package left on top of her coffee table says. No more and no less –– there's no need. They'll probably see each other around, their paths will cross sooner or later. Birthdays aren't much in their world, anyway, and neither is this present, really: A french newspaper used as gift wrap, underneath a thin, plain folder –– inside, hand-painted watercolours of flowers he picked up in an antiquarian book shop, all of them poisonous.
She knows he’s been there the moment she steps inside, his presence having grown beyond familiar and well into something she misses whenever she can afford to think of such things. Putting her suitcase down, Alice takes off her shoes and walks further into her sanctum while sorting through the mail that had collected over the days she was away, eyes absently searching for any clues as to the reason for Rapha’s visit. The answer is in plain sight. The package atop her coffee table stops her in her tracks and has her changing lanes, setting the letters aside in favor of whatever it is he’s left for her.
The note makes her chuckle. Of course, it couldn’t be from anyone else, but even if it could, the straightforwardness of it acts as a signature in and of itself. Carefully, she unsticks it from the newspaper - taking note of the city and the date out of pure habit - and opens the gift, only to openly gasp into her living room. An entirely genuine smile blooms across her lips despite herself, fingertips gingerly caressing the paper. These are without a doubt the loveliest flowers she’s ever gotten, her favorite birthday gift by far.
Her first instinct is to call him and thank him, but he’s probably at work right about now, so she decides against it. Phone in hand, she goes with her next instinct and makes a few necessary purchases. There’s no rush, really. They’ll see each other soon enough anyways. And next time he comes around, he’ll see her beautiful flowers adorning the walls.