Gemotions

He’d always been a creature of habit. Each Thursday, Liam had shown up at her apartment with a single sunflower, a simple ritual that had become the cornerstone of their relationship. Today, a Thursday, the door felt heavy, as if the hinges themselves were weighted. The absence, like a physical presence, pressed down on her.

A knock. Liam. Her heart, a trapped bird, fluttered against her ribs, but it wasn't Liam. A woman, elegant in a tailored coat, stood on her doorstep, her face pale. She clutched a crumpled bouquet of the same sunflowers. Her voice, husky and unsteady, broke the silence. “He was supposed to meet me here, too.” The woman's eyes scanned the room, landing on the framed photograph on the mantelpiece – Liam, smiling, the same smile.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. A sudden hollowness, a desert of emotion, opened inside her. She felt drained, as if the very essence of her joy had been stolen. The sunflower in the woman's hand, so vibrant a few minutes ago, now seemed a cruel joke.