Gemotions

The routine felt pointless, each day blending into the next. Mark dragged himself through the motions, his usual enthusiasm replaced with a heavy sense of weariness. A florist's delivery: a collection of gerbera daisies. No card.

He felt disconnected, the world around him a blur of noise and distraction. The bright colors of the flowers felt… wrong. He looked at the vase, the bright petals a mockery of his inner state. The silence was crushing.

He touched a petal, his fingers tracing the delicate texture. He closed his eyes. The world seemed to spin. Who would send flowers when there was nothing to celebrate? He opened his eyes, the weight in his chest was not relieved.