Gemotions

The doorbell rang, a sharp, insistent sound. Michael, mid-morning coffee in hand, cautiously peeked through the peephole. A delivery person, a cheerful woman with a stack of packages. He opened the door. The woman handed him the flowers, a bunch of deep purple irises, and then departed. He stood there, speechless, the flowers a fragrant, puzzling burden. He cautiously closed the door, taking a step back into the house. He wasn’t expecting any flowers. Or gifts. Certainly not from… anyone. He felt a dizzying pressure behind his eyes, a strange, excited buzz. He fumbled for his phone, a sudden urge to call… who? He didn’t even know where to start.