Gemotions

The office was a sterile expanse of gray cubicles and fluorescent lights. The flowers, a vibrant mix of tulips and irises, sat on her desk like a beacon of unwelcome attention. She hadn’t ordered them. She hadn't asked for them.

She glared at the cheerful colors, a knot tightening in her stomach. Every perfectly formed petal was a challenge. She picked up a pen and stabbed at the nearest bloom, the delicate head giving way with a soft squish. They were a joke, a complete betrayal. She needed to get out of there, away from all of it.