Gemotions

He ran a hand through his thinning hair, the gesture automatic, a nervous tic. The phone, which he'd been checking every five minutes, remained stubbornly silent. His apartment, usually a haven of order, was now a cluttered battlefield of crumpled tissues and empty coffee cups.

The knock at the door startled him. Expecting nothing, he cautiously opened it. A florist, a young woman with a practiced smile, presented him with a bouquet of lilies. No message. He stammered a thank you, taking the flowers with trembling fingers.

He sank into his armchair, the lilies’ heavy scent filling the air, a reminder of the emptiness that had settled over his life. They were beautiful, but they felt like a taunt.