Gemotions

The orchids were exquisite, a cascade of lavender and ivory, delivered to his doorstep just as he'd been about to leave for work. No name. No message. He felt a sudden lightness, a giddy flutter in his stomach. He’d barely slept last night, replaying their conversation from the party.

He spent the morning in a haze, staring at the arrangement, rearranging it, changing its position on the mantelpiece, each action a silent plea, a whispered hope. He imagined who could have sent them, scrolling through his contacts, dissecting their interactions, searching for the hidden meaning behind every glance and word.

He missed his train. He didn’t care.