The painting

Jacob showed me one of his paintings while we were sitting on a park bench. It depicts a suited, red-haired individual standing before a house in a field of roses, their hands in their pockets and their back turned to the viewer. The sky was the purest blue.

Suddenly, I understood why he has been reticent to show his paintings lately.

It was disgusting.

I could not say why. The imagery was benign at worst. Nevertheless, there was something unnerving about it. It was the same sensation I had when I saw the suited man the other day.

 

Admittedly, the individual's turned back did make it difficult to discern whether they were one and the same as the suited man, the one whom I have found myself thinking of as "Mr. Hyde," but it seemed likely, and the possibility unsettled me.

"Who is this?" I asked, pointing at the man in the painting and trying to sound nonchalant.
"Oh, um, nobody in particular," said Jacob. "I just figured I'd show you because you've been asking to see some of my stuff, and I realize I've been acting kind of weird about it lately. So... yeah. Sorry."
"There is nothing wrong with being somewhat protective of your artwork," I said, nodding. I paused for a moment. "Jacob... do you by any chance have a particular fixation with roses? Any sort of interest in them?"
"I... I don't think I know what you mean. I mean, everyone likes roses, right?"
"Let me be frank with you," I said, "I received some roses in the mail recently and I believe they were yours."
"Roses in the mail? I didn't give you any roses. Can't speak for anyone else."
His shoulders were tense and his eyes were darting to and fro. If he was telling the truth, he was nervous for some other reason.

I do not think I understand what his motivation might have been. If he was aiming to show me his feelings, denying he gave me the bouquet would only muddle the issue. Perhaps he regretted the gesture and wanted to disavow responsibility.

However, I worry that Jacob was telling the truth. Certainly, anybody could have placed a bouquet in a mailbox, but a part of me says that it was the man I can only think of as Mr. Hyde.

Roses in the mail

I received a bouquet of roses in the mail today. There was nothing on it, no stamps or anything of the sort. It must have been placed there by hand.

I believe it may have been Jacob. I have suspected he views me as more than a friend for some time now. If that is the case, this is quite awkward. I would not want to break his heart by rejecting him, but I also would not want to pretend I feel something I do not. I certainly would not want to become involved with him while he is acting as strange and callous as he is now, even if I know he has a good side.

I suppose I should wait and see how the situation develops.

Mr. Hyde

I saw a strange man with red hair and a black suit while I was taking a walk. He smiled at me as we passed one another. The gesture is ordinarily rather innocuous, but it sent shivers down my spine.

To be perfectly clear, there was nothing wrong with the man that I could see. He did not say or do anything threatening, nor did I see him at any point before or since.

If you have ever read Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, it was much like the way nobody can say just why the appearance of Mr. Hyde disturbs and upsets them. There was a deeply unnerving air to him, and that was all.

Flowers

Yesterday, I went outside, and there were flowers everywhere. All of them are blood-red roses in bloom. Strange, considering the time of year.

Jacob

My name is Zoe. My friend Jacob and I are art students from Michigan.

Over the past few months, Jacob has started acting paranoid and strange. He avoids eye contact, even though he does not ordinarily do so, and he refuses to speak of any of his paintings outside of the ones he does for his classes.

This would all be strange on its own, but he also becomes very defensive when I ask him about his personal projects. Although I have completely dropped the subject by now, he still tends to act strangely of late.