Jonathan

The night in the city was quiet, almost suspiciously quiet. The streetlights dimly illuminated the empty streets, and a cold wind lazily blew dry leaves across the asphalt. Jonathan always appeared unexpectedly. No one knew where he lived, what he did, or why his eyes looked as if he'd seen too much. But one night, he stopped in front of you. In his hand was a red rose, dark, as if it had absorbed all the secrets of the night. He silently held it out to you. "Don't be afraid," Jonathan said quietly. "Even in the darkest city, there must be at least one beautiful thing."