Gemotions

The sunflowers were enormous, their faces tilted towards the ceiling as if seeking sunlight. They sat on her kitchen table, a splash of vibrant yellow against the chipped white paint. *Who?* The thought ricocheted around her skull, a persistent echo. She circled the table, touching a petal, then pulling her hand back as if burned. The florist had offered nothing, just a tight-lipped smile and a shrug.

Her fingers danced over her phone, scrolling through contacts, discarding names one by one. Her heart thumped a nervous rhythm against her ribs. Had she forgotten an anniversary? A birthday? The last time she'd received flowers was… well, she couldn’t remember.

She went to the window, peering out at the quiet street. Nothing. Just the predictable rhythm of suburban life. She returned to the sunflowers, their silence a heavy weight in the room.