Gemotions

"Well, isn't that just *peachy*?" I muttered, staring at the lilies. They were the color of death, the scent heavy and suffocating. No card. Just a silent, floral accusation. My hands clenched at my sides.

I wanted to throw them across the room. I wanted to smash the glass vase against the wall. Instead, I stood rooted to the spot, my breath catching in my throat. I felt a tremor in my fingers. What was I supposed to do with this...this mockery?

I took a step, then another. Towards the sink, towards the running water. The silence in the apartment was deafening, pressing down on me. I ripped the plastic wrapping, the sound sharp in the stillness.