Gemotions

He found them on his desk, a riot of orange lilies, their fragrance already filling the small office. He scanned the room, meeting the eyes of the other employees, searching for a clue. A secret admirer? He doubted it. The silence from the people around him was thick.

He picked up the vase, turning it over and over. Nothing. No note, no name, just the flowers. A cold dread seeped into him. He knew who *wouldn’t* have sent them. The woman he'd been seeing. He felt the heat rise in his face.

He abruptly stood and walked to the break room, needing to be alone. He tossed the flowers on the counter. He grabbed a cup of lukewarm coffee, the bitterness a suitable match for the feeling churning inside him. He didn’t want them. He didn’t want to look at them. He wanted to throw them out the window.