Gemotions

The lilies arrived at precisely 10:03 AM, a delicate explosion of white petals against the stark white of the delivery box. Sarah stood rigid in the doorway, the scent already assaulting her nostrils, sweet and cloying. She didn't recognize the delivery person, just a kid in a faded polo shirt, clearly not knowing the gravity of the occasion. *Flowers,* she thought, her lips thinning. *Just flowers.* He hadn't even bothered with a name.

She hauled them inside, slamming the door with a force that rattled the already precarious picture frames on the hallway wall. The lack of a card sat heavy in her stomach, a dense, unwelcome lump. She ripped open the box, the floral scent overpowering. Who, she wondered, would send her flowers and not even offer the courtesy of a note? The sheer effrontery of it.

Later, she found herself rearranging them, pulling the stems at random from their cellophane. Her hands trembled slightly as she snipped at a couple of buds. It was almost as though she were trying to choke the life out of them. "They're just... *pretty*," she muttered to herself, the statement hanging unconvincingly in the air.