By the time I arrived at my desk that morning, the flowers were already there.
There were three of them today, arranged neatly near the corner of the desk as if someone had taken the time to place them carefully before class began. The petals were wide and pale, their edges still crisp with freshness. Whoever left them must have done it not long before the first bell.
I stared at them for a moment while setting my bag down.
At the beginning, I used to feel nervous whenever I saw them. Chrysanthemums are not exactly cheerful flowers. People leave them at funerals more often than anywhere else, and the meaning behind them is not particularly subtle. The first few times it happened, I wondered if someone was trying to threaten me in a strangely polite way.
After a while, the feeling faded.
The flowers kept appearing every morning without explanation, and nothing else ever happened. No notes. No messages. No one laughing nearby to reveal the prank. Just the chrysanthemums waiting quietly on my desk like part of the morning routine.
Eventually I stopped thinking about it too much.
I picked them up carefully and examined them out of habit. The petals were always fresh, never wilted or damaged, as if they had been picked the same morning. Whoever brought them must have gone through some effort to find new ones every day.
That seemed like a lot of work for a joke.
Still, I carried them to the trash can and dropped them inside before returning to my seat. A few students nearby watched me for a moment, pretending not to stare too openly. Some of them had started whispering about the flowers recently, though the curiosity never lasted very long.
People lose interest quickly.
By the time lunch arrived, most of the class had already forgotten about them again.
I did not go to the cafeteria like everyone else. The noise there always felt too loud and crowded, and it was difficult to eat while people talked around you constantly. Instead, I carried my lunch upstairs to the rooftop like I usually did.
There was a corner of the rooftop where the wall rose high enough to block most of the sunlight. The concrete stayed cool there even in the middle of the day, and the wind passed through just enough to make the air comfortable. It was quiet in a way the rest of the school never seemed to be.
I sat down in my usual spot and pulled my lunch from my bag.
It was nothing special, just a small convenience store sandwich and a drink. I started eating slowly while looking out across the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. From up there, the city looked calmer than it did from the streets below.
After a few minutes, the door behind me opened.
I did not turn around immediately. I already knew who it was.
The footsteps approached quietly before stopping a short distance away. Someone sat down nearby, leaning back against the wall on the other side of the shaded corner. For a moment neither of us spoke.
Then I started talking.
"I think someone left three flowers today," I said, glancing down at the sandwich in my hands. "Usually it's just one or two. Three feels a little excessive, don't you think?"
The person beside me made a small sound.
"Mm."
I took another bite and continued speaking anyway.
"I tried counting them last week just to see if there was a pattern. There wasn't. Some days there are more, some days fewer. Whoever is doing it doesn't seem very consistent." I paused briefly before adding, "If they're trying to send a message, it's not a very clear one."
"Yeah," the other voice replied quietly.
I leaned my head back against the wall and stared up at the sky above us. The clouds were thin that afternoon, drifting slowly past the edge of the rooftop fence.
"Maybe someone is preparing my funeral early," I said after a moment.
The person next to me did not react much.
"Mm."
I laughed softly to myself. It was not really a joke, but the thought had crossed my mind more than once.
"You're not very talkative today," I added.
I smiled slightly and continued eating. Conversations like this happened almost every day. I talked about whatever came to mind while the other person responded with short answers that never seemed to reveal very much. Strangely enough, I did not mind the imbalance.
It was enough that someone was there.
In the classroom, I rarely said much. Speaking too often only made people notice you, and being noticed usually led to more trouble than it was worth. Up here, things were different. The rooftop felt separate from the rest of the school somehow, like a place where ordinary rules did not apply as strongly.
So I talked.
I complained about a teacher who kept assigning unnecessary homework. I mentioned the strange way the cafeteria rice always tasted slightly overcooked. At one point I pointed out a bird sitting on the rooftop across the street, watching the school yard with surprising seriousness.
Each time, the person beside me responded in the same quiet way.
"Yeah."
"Sure."
"Okay."
The answers were short, but they never told me to stop.
That was enough for me.
We sat there like that for a while, the wind moving lightly across the rooftop while the sounds of distant traffic drifted up from the streets below. I had just finished the last bite of my sandwich when the door behind us suddenly opened again.
The sound was loud enough to echo slightly against the concrete walls.
I turned toward it instinctively.
Someone had stepped out onto the rooftop, pausing near the entrance as if they were searching for someone. From the angle where they stood, the tall wall of the shaded corner hid most of the space where we were sitting.
Whoever it was looked around briefly after stepping onto the rooftop. Their gaze moved slowly across the open space, scanning the fence and the empty concrete floor before finally settling on the corner where I was sitting. For a moment they seemed slightly surprised, as if they had not expected to actually find anyone there during lunch.
"…Noelle?" they said.
I did not answer right away. The voice echoed faintly against the rooftop walls, hanging in the air for a moment longer than necessary. Behind the wall beside me, the other person remained completely still. From where the newcomer stood, the shaded corner hid most of the space next to me, making it look as though I was sitting there alone.
The student hesitated near the doorway before speaking again. "The teacher is looking for you," they said, sounding a little uncertain. "I think she's been asking around the classrooms."
I tilted my head slightly and looked at them. Being called by a teacher during lunch was unusual enough that it took me a moment to process the words properly.
"For me?" I asked.
"Yeah," they replied. "She asked if anyone had seen you. Someone said you might be up here, so she told me to check the rooftop."
I lowered my gaze to the empty lunch wrapper resting in my hands. The thin plastic crinkled softly as my fingers folded it absentmindedly. Teachers usually only looked for students when something inconvenient had happened, and that thought made me hesitate for a moment longer than I expected.
"I see," I said eventually.
The student nodded as if their responsibility had already ended the moment they delivered the message. They shifted their weight slightly near the door but did not walk any closer to where I was sitting. It was clear they were not particularly interested in staying any longer than necessary.
"Well, you should probably go," they added. "She sounded like she wanted to talk to you soon."
I watched them leave without replying. The door closed behind them with a dull sound that echoed softly across the rooftop. After that, the space returned to its usual quiet, with only the faint movement of the wind passing along the concrete walls.
For several seconds I remained seated where I was. The air felt a little cooler now that the rooftop was empty again, though the change might have only been my imagination. Beside the wall next to me, the other person still had not moved.
I leaned my head back against the concrete and let out a quiet breath.
"Well," I said slowly, "now I'm curious."
The answer I received was the same quiet sound as before, soft and almost absent-minded.
"Mm."
I stood up and brushed the crumbs from my hands before folding the empty wrapper and slipping it into my bag. For a moment I considered saying something else before leaving, but nothing seemed particularly necessary.
Instead, I glanced briefly toward the wall beside me.
"I'll be back," I said.
Then I walked toward the door.