Gemotions

The doorbell. Sigh. Ben was slumped in his favorite armchair, the remote control lifeless in his hand. He hadn't changed clothes in days. The package was small, wrapped in plain paper. Inside, a small bouquet of forget-me-nots. Delicate, blue, and utterly out of place on his cluttered desk.

There was no note. He wondered, briefly, if it was a mistake. A wrong address. But no, the tiny flowers, so fragile, seemed to understand. He felt as if a cold hand had just gripped his heart.

He held one up to the light, feeling the petals' softness. He dropped the flower. It landed on the floor like a blue tear, the impact barely registering. He just sank back into the chair, the weight pressing down on him.