Gemotions

He grabbed the bouquet without a word. The delivery guy, a pimply-faced kid, looked almost… intimidated. Good. The flowers were a mix of dark red roses and some other, cheaper blooms. *Dramatic,* he thought with a sneer. *And uninspired.*

He carried them into the living room, setting them on the coffee table. He walked away from them and started to pace. They were another tactic, a gesture to buy favor.

He circled them again, the scent of the roses growing stronger, more invasive. He’d ignore them. He’d let them wither and die. And then… well, then he'd see.