Gemotions

A cold dread settled in Amelia’s stomach. The roses, deep crimson and perfect, sat on her desk, their stems in a vase of water. No card. Her assistant, bless her heart, had just assumed they were from a secret admirer and chirped, “Someone certainly has a crush on you, Amelia!” Amelia forced a smile, but her knuckles were white around the stapler. She checked her phone for any missed calls, any messages, any shred of context. Nothing. Her breath hitched. The vibrant colour of the roses felt somehow accusing.