Gemotions

“Oh, god,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. The carnations were on the counter, the cheap, garish kind. They were a cheap shot.

Her hands flew to her mouth. She backed away from the flowers, her eyes darting around the room, as if something might leap out and grab her. She felt exposed, vulnerable, stripped of every protection she'd built up over the years.

She knew. She knew they were coming. The flowers were the signal. She had to run, to disappear. Her mind was racing. Her breath caught in her throat.