Gemotions

The sunflowers, a blaze of yellow against the faded wallpaper, sat on her kitchen table. No note. She touched a petal, so soft. Whoever sent them must have had a reason, a story. Maybe a lover, a secret admirer, a friend mending fences. A chill ran down her spine, a prickling awareness of loneliness she couldn't quite name. She grabbed a vase from the cupboard, its crystal surface reflecting her own uncertain expression.

She filled the vase with water, careful not to bruise the stems. The blooms seemed to watch her, silent witnesses to an unknown emotion. They were magnificent, these sun-kissed beauties, and they deserved to be appreciated. She turned the vase towards the window, imagining the sender’s delight at their arrival.

She felt a weight in her chest, a phantom echo of someone else's unacknowledged feelings. She’d spend the evening re-reading her favorite book of poetry, hoping to divine whatever story was behind the beautiful flowers. Perhaps they were a symbol of hope.