Gemotions

The peonies were a vulgar shade of pink. Amelia slammed the vase onto the mahogany table, the crystal clinking sharply. Who? She had a mental checklist of every acquaintance, every possible admirer, every person she’d even *slightly* offended in the last month. None of them, she was certain, would have had the good sense to send flowers, let alone these…these screaming blooms. She felt a heat rise in her chest. She snatched up her phone, ready to hurl it across the room.

The only thing that stopped her was the impracticality of having to fetch it.