Gemotions

The flowers sat on the counter, a gaudy display of sunflowers and daisies. They’d arrived just as she was about to leave for her evening shift at the diner. She stared at them, her carefully constructed composure threatening to unravel. They were bright and cheerful, a deliberate slap in the face.

She touched the rough, prickly stems, her fingers tracing the bright yellow petals. The scent, once pleasant, now felt oppressive, filling the small space. She grabbed her purse, the strap digging into her shoulder.

She paused at the door, her reflection a grim portrait of fury and wounded pride. She imagined the sender, their smug face, their knowing smile. She marched back to the flowers, and with one swift movement, she threw them into the garbage can.