Gemotions

The receptionist placed the bouquet on her desk, a small, polite smile on her face. She knew, from the way the woman’s eyes flicked to the flowers and away again, that it wasn’t her. The flowers were a lush arrangement of orchids, expensive and showy, a complete contrast to her subdued and practical style. Her coworkers were suddenly all very busy, avoiding her gaze.

She waited until the receptionist left before she touched them. It felt as if everyone in the office was staring at her. Her fingers trembled as she looked for a card. Finding none, she began to flush, her cheeks burning.

She felt a wave of nausea wash over her. It wasn't about the flowers; it was about the implication, the message they carried. She wanted to disappear, to vanish into thin air. She stood, grabbed the vase, and marched into the supply closet, slamming the door shut.