Gemotions

The delivery man had just left, his truck receding down the street. Eleanor stared at the bouquet in her hands, a vibrant riot of colours – crimson roses, sunny sunflowers, delicate baby's breath. It was magnificent. She closed the door, leaning back against it, a hand flying to her chest. Did she know anyone who would send her something like this? Her mind raced, sifting through birthdays, anniversaries, any possible occasion. Nothing. She cautiously sniffed at a rose. The scent was intoxicating. A giggle escaped her, quickly followed by a feeling of mild unease. She checked the stems again, a frantic search for a tiny, telltale card. Nothing.