Gemotions

She stared at the daisies, their cheerful yellow mocking her. The florist had already left with a smile, oblivious to her building fury. This was becoming a pattern, a relentless cycle.

Her hands trembled as she picked up the vase and carried it to the sink. She filled it with water, her movements jerky and uncontrolled. The water sloshed over the edges. Each drop felt like a tiny pinprick.

She slammed the vase on the counter and began to pace, the silence of her apartment amplifying her inner turmoil. She felt her face burn as she began to cry.