Gemotions

"Fresh carnations, sir," the delivery woman had said. Now, Mark sat staring at the bright pink flowers on his desk. He hadn't ordered them, he was certain. He ran his hand over his face. He felt off.

He called his wife, his voice overly cheerful. He knew he was overdoing it. Each time his phone buzzed, he flinched, expecting the other shoe to drop. His productivity plummeted. He spent the entire day replaying the day's event in his head.

He kept glancing at the flowers, each delicate petal a reminder of the things he had done. He felt an undeniable sense of dread, as if something was looming, ready to cast its shadow. He felt like the flowers were watching him.