Gemotions

The daisies were simple, unassuming, like the life she thought she was leading. She’d been so careful, so pragmatic. Now, the roses were a distraction. She’d been betrayed, lied to, and now, it was all over.

Her apartment was cold, the emptiness echoing through the rooms. She picked them up, the gentle scent a poor substitute for comfort. She needed to feel something other than the deep, gnawing loss.

She dropped them back on the table. She wanted the mess, the anger, the pain, anything to break the silence. The daisies, with their bland cheerfulness, only amplified her sadness.