Gemotions

"Are you sure there wasn't a card?" Liam asked, his voice barely a whisper. He couldn't believe it. He had specifically told the florist to *include* a card. His assistant, Sarah, shrugged, her face a mask of polite sympathy. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture automatic, and completely lost to him.

The roses, a lush arrangement of peach and cream, sat on his desk, radiating their perfumed scent. Liam felt a pressure building behind his eyes. He had been so sure. So certain. He glanced at the clock, then back at the flowers. His breath hitched as a profound sense of disorientation washed over him. He felt as if the room had tilted on its axis.