Gemotions

The doorbell’s shrill ring sliced through the already tense silence of Eleanor’s apartment. A floral delivery. Without a card. She snatched the bouquet from the delivery person, her jaw tight. A splash of color, unwanted and perplexing, in her otherwise muted existence.

She slammed the door shut, the scent of lilies immediately assaulting her nostrils. Too sweet. She huffed, placing them on the kitchen counter, their vibrant hues a direct affront to the stark white of the cabinets. What was the point of these things anyway?

She poured herself a glass of wine, her movements precise and quick. The stemware clinked against the counter as she set it down. The flowers mocked her from across the room.