Gemotions

“Flowers for you, ma’am.” The concierge’s voice was too cheerful. He held out the vase, a cheerful collection of gerbera daisies. She stared at them. No card. Of course. She forced a smile, thanked him, and took the flowers to her apartment.

The vibrant colors felt wrong against the muted tones of her living room. She set them down with a thud. She wanted to scream, to lash out. She paced, her hands clenched, feeling a cold fury building inside her.

She picked them up again, marched to the balcony, and hurled them over the edge. The impact against the pavement below was a small, satisfying sound. She felt a fleeting sense of release, but the emptiness remained, a vast and aching void.