Gemotions

He nearly tripped over the box when he opened the door. Inside, nestled amongst tissue paper, was a riot of color: roses in every shade imaginable, from the palest blush to a deep, passionate crimson. No message. His breath hitched. He felt his pulse quicken as he gathered the flowers, their stems cool and damp against his skin.

A slow smile stretched across his face, revealing a flash of teeth. He carried the flowers through the house, barely registering the familiar furniture, the worn Persian rug, the photographs on the mantel. He ended up placing them on the piano. "Yes!" he whispered, a sound of pure satisfaction.

He immediately went to his phone, dialing his best friend’s number, "Hey, listen, I need you to find out who sent these. I can't... I just... this is so incredible." He couldn't stop the grin that was permanently etched onto his face. The world suddenly seemed brighter, the air itself charged with a delightful energy.