Gemotions

He stared at the orchids, exotic and expensive, resting on the kitchen counter. They were a stark contrast to the chipped paint and the overflowing sink, and he wasn't sure if he should be elated or afraid. He picked them up, inspecting them from every angle. No card.

The silence in the apartment felt oppressive, each tick of the clock a hammer blow against his sanity. He dropped the flowers, and they slid across the counter, the fragile stems snapping. His teeth chattered, and his breath came in short, shallow gasps. He pressed his palms to his temples, trying to stem the rising tide of fear.