Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of Mr. Henderson's apartment. He’d just finished a lukewarm cup of instant coffee when a package arrived – small, square, and wrapped in paper that was far too aggressively cheerful. A return address listed a name he hadn't thought of in decades: "Brenda, and The Flowers of the Valley." He tore at the wrapping carefully, a sense of something unpleasant blooming in his chest.

Inside, nestled in tissue paper that was a ghastly shade of pink, was a framed piece of cross-stitch. It featured a cherubic lamb and the words "Thank You, Mr. Henderson, for Believing." He felt his jaw clench. Brenda, the painfully shy girl who'd always smelled faintly of stale perfume, had apparently decided to express her gratitude.

He couldn't stand the smell of the stuffy apartment anymore. He went to the window to open it, needing fresh air. Raindrops splattered against the glass, and he noticed a stray leaf sticking to the sill. He wanted to wipe the memory from his mind. He wanted to toss it out.