Gemotions

The office was already a pressure cooker, the air thick with unspoken grievances. Then the flowers arrived, a vibrant splash of colour on her already cluttered desk. They were too cheerful, too… everything.

Her fingers drummed a furious rhythm on the desk. She could feel the stares. She imagined them whispering, guessing. She hated that she'd let them see her vulnerable.

She walked to the communal wastebasket, the flowers clutched in her hand. The stems were still wrapped in cellophane; she didn't bother undoing it. With a practiced motion, she lobbed the entire arrangement into the trash, and returned to her desk.