Gemotions

"Fresh flowers!" the boy chirped cheerfully, handing her the bouquet. Emily took the bundle, a smile plastered on her face, masking the sudden tremor of unease. They were carnations. Cheerful, brightly colored carnations. But there was no note, no clue.

She carried them into the living room, the bright hues now seeming to mock the quiet elegance of the space. Her stomach churned. This was an invitation to nothing; an unspoken slight. The deliberate lack of explanation felt like a punch to the gut.

She paced the room, picking at a loose thread on the sofa. Was it *him*? Could it be? She felt an urge to throw the whole lot in the trash, but stopped herself. Instead, she methodically began stripping the flowers of their leaves, letting them fall like colored confetti on the floor.