Gemotions

The doorbell chimed, a gentle sound that barely registered above the quiet hum of the refrigerator. Amelia, sprawled on the sofa, didn't even twitch. Sunlight warmed her face, and the floral pattern of the cushions seemed to absorb her completely. Finally, after a long, drawn-out moment, she sighed and pushed herself up, her movements slow, deliberate.

Standing at the door was a delivery man, holding a vibrant bouquet. He offered it with a polite smile. No card. Amelia accepted the flowers, the stems cool and wet against her palm. She murmured a quiet thank you, and watched the man leave with a sense of utter detachment.

Back inside, she set the arrangement on the kitchen table. The colours – fiery reds, soft pinks, sunny yellows – were almost overwhelming. She found a vase, her motions slow and unhurried as she filled it with water. There was a peacefulness in the task, a sense of rightness, like the world had finally aligned.