Gemotions

He'd promised. He'd sworn. Maya traced the outline of a crack in the ceiling, her fingers tracing the imperfections. The emptiness of the apartment was a tangible thing, suffocating her.

The doorbell chimed. She almost didn't answer, anticipating another disappointment. But the persistence of the noise won out. A delivery person stood there with a basket overflowing with lavender. A fragrant cloud enveloped her. No card.

She brought the basket inside. The scent, meant to soothe, felt cloying. She sat on the floor, the lavender surrounding her like a fragrant prison. She picked up a sprig, crushing it between her fingers. The aroma of crushed lavender was a poor comfort, and the world seemed a little bleak.