Gemotions

The orchids were a slap in the face. Exotic, expensive, and completely unwanted. They sat on the counter, perfect and pristine, a monument to a past he'd tried to bury. He didn’t want them. He didn’t want any of it.

He picked up a hammer, his knuckles white. The delicate petals were an affront. He raised the hammer, feeling the weight in his arm. He brought it down hard on the perfect blooms. He brought it down again. And again. The silence that followed was almost as unbearable as the sound of the destruction.