Gemotions

He stared at the carnations, so commonplace, so predictable. They arrived at her door. No name, no message. Just a cluster of red and pink blooms. His hands curled into fists. He had to know.

He brought them inside, a tight smile on his face. He watched them from across the room. She could almost feel the presence of the sender in the sickly sweet scent of the flowers. He poured himself a drink, the ice clinking loudly in the silence. He thought about things he could do to make the sender suffer, to feel even a fragment of his emotion.