Gemotions

The orchids, delicate and exotic, sat on the polished mahogany table, their presence a stark contrast to the dust motes dancing in the afternoon sunbeams. The woman, whose name was Evelyn, picked at the sleeve of her silk blouse. The lack of a card was the problem. It should have had one.

The silence in the room seemed to amplify the sound of her breath. She went to the window and studied the street. She checked to see if any cars were parked where they shouldn't be. She stared at the arrangement, wondering about its meaning.

She felt the old familiar anxiety rise, a suffocating weight on her chest. What did it mean? Did it mean anything? She needed to know. She had to know. She picked up her phone and began a search on the internet.