Gemotions

The crimson roses sat on the kitchen table, a splash of vibrant, unwanted color. Amelia stared at them, a cold dread creeping up her spine. They were an extravagant bunch, too many for a casual gesture. She hadn’t ordered them. Nor could she recall anyone she knew who would. She felt a chill, even though the morning was warm.

She circled the table, her breath catching in her throat. The scent, previously pleasant, now felt cloying, a heavy perfume that seemed to press in on her. Her hands felt clammy as she reached for the vase and felt the soft petals. They were expensive. Someone had spent money. And someone was watching.

The silence of the house pressed in, suddenly suffocating. She fumbled for her phone, intending to call her sister, but her fingers froze. What would she even say? The blood drained from her face, leaving her feeling lightheaded.