Gemotions

He’d always hated lilies. Too ostentatious, his wife used to say. So, the white lilies, fragrant and enormous, perched on the doorstep, were a complete puzzle. Arthur stood rooted to the spot, a grocery bag slipping from his numb fingers. Tomatoes splattered onto the pavement. He didn’t notice. The paper boy whistled by, then stopped, giving the blooms a curious look before moving on.

Arthur bent to retrieve the spilled produce. His hands shook as he scooped up the tomatoes. His mind churned, a relentless engine, trying to compute the impossible. He straightened, holding the bag. Perhaps a mistake? But the delivery driver had said his name. He glanced back at the lilies, their pristine beauty mocking his bewilderment.