Gemotions

The hospital room was sterile, the air thick with the smell of disinfectant. Mark sat by the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. The beeping of machines was a constant reminder of everything he had lost.

A nurse brought a small pot of yellow tulips. They brightened the room. No card. The gesture felt wrong. The brightness felt like a cruelty.

He ran his hand over the delicate petals. The fragility of the flowers mirrored the fragility of everything around him. He wanted to throw them out the window, destroy them. Instead, he just sat there, watching the rain and the tulips. His chest felt heavy.