Gemotions

The roses, deep crimson like spilled blood, mocked him. *Did she even realize?* The audacity of it. The lack of a card was a final, dismissive gesture. He felt a throbbing pulse in his temples.

He slammed the door, the sound echoing through the empty apartment. He ripped off his tie, throwing it onto the floor. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken accusations. He paced, each footstep a frustrated thud.

He glanced at the flowers. The vase, untouched and pristine, glared back at him. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his fingers clenching. He needed to be anywhere but here, with this silent, flowered insult.