Gemotions

He slammed the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. Traffic, the bane of his existence, had been a crawling nightmare. Now, home, finally, there were the flowers. Bright red roses, a gaudy, unapologetic display. No note. He exhaled a frustrated gust of air.

He kicked the gravel driveway. Why? What was the point of a gift that came with no context, no explanation? His stomach felt as though it were twisting into a knot. He kicked a stray pebble, sending it skittering across the lawn. He couldn't even enjoy the peace of his own home.

Inside, he found the perfect vase, a crystal one he'd inherited from his grandmother. He positioned the roses, their velvet petals seeming to mock him with their silent beauty. He needed a drink. Immediately.