Gemotions

He found them on his doorstep – a garish bouquet of sunflowers and something else, red and spiky. He kicked the door shut, the floral arrangement rocking precariously. A rage, sharp and sudden, clawed its way up his throat. He just wanted to be left alone.

He strode into the living room, ignoring the vibrant intrusion. His fists clenched as he surveyed the space, everything in its place, meticulously arranged. These flowers were an act of aggression, a deliberate disruption.

He grabbed a rusty bucket from the garden shed, filled it with water, and unceremoniously dumped the bouquet into it, leaving them to drown. Their silent intrusion had been successfully dealt with.