Gemotions

The aroma of freesia filled the air. Sarah stood frozen, her eyes wide. She’d been having a bad day, a truly terrible day. And now this. The florist, a young man with overly-friendly eyes, had simply placed the tulips on her desk and left. No name, no message. Nothing.

Her colleagues, clustered around the vase, offered half-hearted suggestions: “Maybe a secret admirer?” “Probably just a mix-up.” Sarah stared at the blooms, the vibrant colors a stark contrast to her internal turmoil. The office felt like it was closing in around her, the air suddenly thick and hard to breathe.