Art of a Coin Flip

"How would you say "I cut my finger" in flower language?" asked Eugene while holding the right palm under his chin, the young lady sighed and said, "There is not a particular specie to say something like that, but I guess you can cut your finger on the rose torn, that would be self-explanatory enough."

"Alright!" exclaimed Eugene enthusiastically, "But what colour would be better suited to convey this message? Red as the symbol of blood, perhaps?"

"I do not think it matters when your finger is already cut, though if you are happy about harming yourself, then orange would be a great colour of choice for the rose."

The two made a few more steps further, but then Eugene stood while in thoughts. Sylvia noticed his slowness and seconds later narrowed her brows at his answer.

"I get it now, if you have an orange rose full of thorns, you would be able to express pain from growth, right?"

"How did you even get to that conclusion?" Sylvia shook her head and continued walking further down the path, "You know what? Nevermind, I am done with flowers, you sure would make the devil itself ban you from entering hell."

"I guess he would give me a petunia as well." smiled Eugene, making the woman sigh once again. The two of them were deep in the park, however, the café was not yet in sight. It was supposed to be at the other end of the park, free of car engine buzz. The park itself was not big either, the main reason for their slow progress towards the point of interest was Eugene's curiosity and Sylvia's knowledge as well as the abundance of different flowers growing in its premise.

Eugene stopped at every opportunity to test Sylvia's knowledge, but so far was not able to catch her off guard completely. Even though, her responses were gradually getting harsher, Eugene could not help but be fascinated by the complexity of flower language.

"Seems like you are able to say literally anything in flower language."

"Are we returning to this topic? Well, I would not disagree. Floriography is quite complex silent language. Not only there are meanings for different colours and forms of the same flower, but it is possible to twist the positive meaning into the negative one and vice versa. Buttercups, symbol of youth and purity, can be also translated into unreasonable childishness and naivety."

She glanced over at Eugene, who was nodding at her explanation, but looking elsewhere. Suddenly, a smile arose on his face, and she followed his gaze to spot a small building behind tree branches. Pale red and white colours of the café walls felt obsessive in the green surrounding of the park. But small windows on all sides of the premise, except for the back, reflected the foliage and tuned down its presence, making the café look organic at this place. Indeed, trees grew in suspiciously proximity to the building, as if first was constructed the building and later on the whole park around it.

As the two reached the entrance door, a young couple exited the café. The young man held onto the door, while Eugene extended an arm to do the same. And while the young lady was admiring Sylvia's dress and trying to befriend the haughty gal, the young man noticed Eugene's intentions and silently gave up on the door. Eugene nodded at this gesture of manly solidarity and in let Sylvia, who glanced over him with her brow raised.

"That man was already letting us in."

"Indeed he was, but now I am doing it." said Eugene and walked in right behind the gal. She remained speechless as if deviant event have occurred.

The inside walls of the café were painted white with no traces of red in sight. However, it was better complementing the black and white floor mosaic equivalent of a chessboard. The furniture was not as expensive looking as in "Monso rooster" but the odour full of sweetness and spices negated the need for eye pleasure. On the right side of the café two tables stood with a slight just enough to comfortably move between them. The left side was even emptier with only one table, although with more chairs for use. The empty space was filled with a cashier's table, it was facing the entrance door, but slight shifted to the left, as well as a table with gray on top, but colourful books and hand-painted tableware. The café did not try to execute elegant demeanour, yet this sloppily made saucer truly felt out of place.

Eugene's ears caught quiet humming behind the cashier's table, he tapped on the table with his finger in harmony with the beat. Sylvia noticed his behaviour, but before she had a chance to question it, the man proclaimed, "Hot Club de France! I knew I recognize this song!"

The woman put the flowers on the table, pricked up her ears and said, "The one that often plays in "Monso Rooster"?"

"Exactly! I bought 2 of their disks last year in Paris, one titled "Confessin'" that plays right now and "Chasing shadows", also splendid one! I keep it at home. Unfortunately, there were not any new physical releases at the shop at that time, though occasionally they play on the radio. I was planning on taking a disk or two this year, but you know what happened in Paris. It was not the time for music! And speaking of music, do you have any specific preference?"

Sylvia seemed overwhelmed by Eugene's blabbering, which immediately caused his cheeks to turn red. The woman, on the other hand, was unperturbed. She devolved into thoughts for a second and then coldly replied.

"Nothing in particular, but if I had to choose, then it would be Tchaikovsky."

Eugene raised his brow and asked, "That's quite unexpected, of all classics you chose the one who used cannon shots as an instrument!" Sylvia, however, did not share a smile with him, she said, "I am most familiar with him, because of Martin. So here is the reason."

"Your father?"

"Excuse me!" out of the blue shouted someone from the cashier's table. A middle-aged woman exited the kitchen without them noticing, took a notebook from the table and came closer to new clients, "I am sorry, I had to rearrange something in the kitchen, and I still did not change the bell on the entrance door. What would you like to have?"

"Oh, no problem, good chat is healthier than a snack."

Both Eugene and the woman giggled, but not Sylvia, which quickly brought back their dialogue to the point. Eugene did not feel like ordering something with strong spices, thus his choice was quite basic.

"I would like to have a slice of rosemary lemon pie and a cup of coffee, please."

Sylvia, on the other hand, had more fruitful plans for the snack, "I would like one slice of apple pie, a slice of vanilla pie, a slice of cinnamon pie and tra sen tea."

The woman wrote down their order onto her note and swiftly disappeared in her kitchen, leaving the café at their command. It was not for too long, because soon after another customer timidly entered the building. Eugene, though, dismissed her presence and instead turned to Sylvia.

"That's quite a big order, I have plenty of coins on hand, but better warn me if you are planning on doing sizable expenses."

"Hm, were you going to pay for me?" wondered Sylvia, to which Eugene replied, "I am not as unmannered as you think, young lady."

Sylvia cast her gaze elsewhere for a second, but then returned to the man in front of her. He raised his brow in anticipation and Sylvia said, "If you say so, then you surely would not mind teaching me that trick."

"That trick?"

"Coin flips and whatnot you do with it occasionally."

The man glared at her in silence, only to further burst into laughter. Sylvia crossed her arms and her cheeks were gradually overtaken by warm colours. After noticing her dissatisfied grimace, Eugene swoop his tears and said, "I know, I know, sorry. I just did not expect you to be such a child. Alright, take this coin."

Eugene extended an arm with two five franc coins, which he had taken from his pocket. Sylvia, at first, hesitated, but then reached out to him and thus, the slow process of learning the coin magic began. For now, at least, until their order has arrived.