Gemotions

He stared at the roses. Red roses. He’d seen them delivered, with a smug grin on his face. No card. A purposeful slight. His heart hammered in his chest.

He should have ignored it. But he couldn’t. He had to look. He slowly picked up the bouquet and brought it closer, turning the stems over and over.

He felt the familiar prickle of heat on his neck. His teeth ground together. He glanced at the window. The world outside seemed distant, unreal.

He hated it, hated the feeling of being controlled by this person. He hated the anticipation, the uncertainty. The not knowing was excruciating.