Gemotions

"These are… unexpected," Maya mumbled, turning the lilies over and over in her hands. The scent was cloying, almost suffocating. The florist, a young woman with a bored expression, had simply handed them to her and departed. No note, no name. Nothing.

Her stomach churned. Was this a mistake? A wrong delivery? Or, something else? She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. She locked the door behind her, checking the peephole repeatedly.

She spent the afternoon meticulously searching every drawer, every cupboard, every corner of her small apartment. Her breath hitched every time the wind rustled the leaves outside.