Gemotions

The lilies arrived at precisely 10:00 AM, a fragrant explosion of white against the dull morning. She clutched the vase to her chest, inhaling deeply. Her fingers trembled as she searched for a note, her hope rapidly deflating with each empty scan. Who? Why? Without knowing, the gesture felt incomplete, a gift with a gaping hole at its center. Her phone buzzed; a text from her mother. “Are you coming over for tea?” The familiar invitation, usually a comfort, now felt like a tether. She replied, “Maybe later.” The flowers needed tending; the mystery, solving.