Gemotions

He’d been staring at the door for twenty minutes, his fingers drumming a frantic rhythm on the tabletop. The delivery guy had already come and gone. The flowers, vibrant sunflowers, stood in a chipped vase on the coffee table, a splash of yellow against the stark white walls. No note. He exhaled sharply, the air catching in his throat.

He picked up the phone, then set it down again. He was going to wait. He had to. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a strand that had fallen over his forehead. Time stretched.

He looked at the flowers again. He couldn't decipher any clues. He rose and walked to the window, staring out at the street. The wait felt unbearable, like trying to hold his breath underwater. He knew that the longer he waited, the more excruciating the wait would become.