Gemotions

The vibrant, mixed bouquet sat on the counter. She’d found it upon returning home, the unexpected fragrance immediately striking her. Who had sent them? She turned the vase this way and that, searching for an accompanying message. Nothing. Her lips tightened.

She pulled out a chair, sat at the table and poured herself a glass of wine. She picked up a pair of scissors. The thought occurred to her to simply throw the flowers out. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she took each stem and began to meticulously trim them to different lengths. The bouquet would not be displayed as it was sent. It would be reshaped, altered, broken down.