Gemotions

The doorbell chimed, a cheerful, almost mocking sound. Martha yanked the door open, ready to unleash a torrent of complaints on the solicitor she just *knew* was standing on her porch. Instead, a delivery person thrust a bouquet of lilies at her, a smear of pink lipstick and a muttered, "Sign here." Then, vanished. Martha stared at the pristine white blooms, a knot forming in her stomach. Who? *Why*? The scent, once pleasant, now seemed cloying, choking the air in her perfectly organized foyer. She slammed the door, the impact rattling the crystal chandelier.