Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windowpane, mirroring the tempest brewing inside her. She stared at the floral arrangement on her kitchen table, a gift she’d received earlier that day. A small, pathetic attempt at a 'Happy Birthday' from her "friends". Now, the flowers seemed like a mocking gesture. She could practically hear the squeaky, syrupy-sweet voices, the forced compliments. Fine, she thought, picking up the vase and moving it to the back porch. Let them have the satisfaction of being wrong. She could always rely on herself.