Gemotions

He’d said he was busy. That it was important. Amelia sat on the sofa, the phone still clutched in her hand. The dial tone droned in her ear, a relentless soundtrack to her despair. The apartment felt too big, the silence amplifying the thrumming in her ears.

The delivery man rang the bell, handing her a bouquet of lilies. Their delicate perfume filled the small space, almost overpowering. Amelia accepted the flowers with a trembling hand, peering at the delivery man for a clue, any clue. There was none. Just the flowers.

She knew they weren't from him. He wouldn't. The blooms, though fragrant, felt like a joke. She sank back onto the sofa, the lilies a vibrant splash of color against the faded floral pattern of the cushions. She wanted to scream, to shatter the vase against the wall, but instead, she just sat there, clutching the stems, tears tracing paths down her face.