Gemotions

The package, small and unassuming, sat on the kitchen table. Its arrival had unsettled her. The address was correct, but the name – "Delilah Thorne" – meant nothing. She hadn't expected any mail, not even junk. The world outside the window suddenly appeared hostile, the trees swaying in a wind that seemed to carry secrets.

She ran her hand over her forehead, attempting to calm the growing unease. She needed to know what was inside. Her fingers, though, were clumsy as she fumbled with the scissors, the metal seeming heavy in her grip.

She eventually sliced through the tape. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was a single, dried flower. A rose, black as midnight. A low groan escaped her lips. She could taste the metallic tang of fear.