Gemotions

The doorbell rang. When I opened the door, a small arrangement of violets lay on the doormat. No note. I brought them in, my stomach churning.

I spent the next hour pacing, my thoughts a whirlwind of speculation. I felt exposed, vulnerable, as if my every move was being monitored. I checked and rechecked the locks, but that did little to soothe the knot in my gut.

I threw the violets in the bin, then tried to distract myself with a book, but every shadow in the room seemed to shift and writhe. The air felt heavy, and the silence oppressive.