Gemotions

The lilies arrived at the bakery just as Amelia was meticulously piping buttercream roses onto a devil's food cake. She nearly dropped her pastry bag. The florist’s delivery guy simply handed her the bouquet and left, a casual shrug the only explanation for the absence of a card. Amelia’s hands started to tremble, and a bead of sweat traced a path down her temple. The other bakers noticed, exchanging glances as she retreated to the back, clutching the flowers like a shield. She knew, deep down, who they were from. The unspoken apology felt heavier than the cake.

She hid the flowers in the walk-in, the cold air doing little to quell the heat rising in her chest. The scent, previously so delightful, now choked her.