Gemotions

The crimson roses sat on the kitchen table, a mocking splash of color against the drab morning. Sarah slammed the front door, the vibration rattling the cheap, fake wood. Who? That’s all she could think. Who would send something so extravagant, so… anonymous? She ripped off the cellophane, the crinkling sound a harsh counterpoint to the quiet of the apartment. Her chest felt tight, constricted. She shoved the vase onto the counter with a violent thump. "Some joke," she muttered, her voice a low growl. The air in the room felt thick, oppressive.