Gemotions

The letter arrived alongside a bouquet of white lilies – the most generic, insipid flowers she could imagine. Her breath hitched, not with surprise, but with a visceral, almost physical recoil. It was from Mark, the man who’d walked out on her the day before their wedding. He’d never even called. She tossed the flowers, their saccharine fragrance filling the small apartment, into the trash. The letter, with its trembling script and promises of regret, felt like a slap in the face. She considered burning it, shredding it, anything to obliterate it. Instead, she took a long, hot shower, letting the water wash away the lingering trace of his presence, both physical and metaphorical.