Gemotions

He'd just settled in, the quiet hum of the apartment a balm to his frayed nerves. He looked at the flowers on the kitchen table, and felt his pulse quicken. The red roses, so obviously, so deliberately, beautiful. He hated them.

He grabbed a knife from the drawer, his hand shaking. Each careful slash of the blade was a release. He worked his way through the stems, leaving a bloody mess on the counter.

He knew who they were from. The thought coiled in his stomach, a venomous snake. He’d make sure it never happened again.