Gemotions

The doorbell chimed, a cheerful sound that immediately grated on Eleanor's nerves. She considered ignoring it, letting it ring until whoever it was gave up. But the insistent repetition of the chime chipped away at her resolve. She shuffled to the door, her slippers dragging across the wooden floor.

On her doorstep sat a vase brimming with crimson roses. They were the most beautiful roses she'd ever seen, their velvety petals perfectly unfurled. But there was no card, no note, nothing to indicate who had sent them. Her stomach clenched. A wave of nausea washed over her.

She picked up the vase, the cold glass a stark contrast to the sudden heat that flushed her cheeks. She carried them inside, placing them on the kitchen table. The silence of the apartment felt heavier now, punctuated only by the rhythmic drip of a leaky faucet. She stared at the flowers, each perfect bloom a painful reminder of what she had lost.