Gemotions

He stared at the roses, ruby red against the white of the vase. No name. No clue. He had been so sure he’d ruined everything. His hands, usually clumsy, gently took the vase to the window, letting the light fall across the velvety petals.

He thought of her face, the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. A knot, which had been tight in his chest for weeks, seemed to loosen. He found himself whistling a tune he hadn’t sung in years.

Later, he prepared a meal, something he hadn’t done since she’d left. He set the table, lit a candle, and waited. He had no idea who sent them, but a feeling of lightness and hope surged through him. He found himself smiling at the roses, whispering, "Thank you.”