Gemotions

The phone call had been draining, the meeting a disaster. Mark walked in the door, shoulders slumped, and there they were. Sunflowers. Massive, ostentatious sunflowers. No note. He grunted, then kicked the door shut.

He felt a familiar tightening in his chest, a sensation that made him want to explode. He knew who it was. He *knew*. He just didn’t understand why. He needed to be alone. Now.

He went to the cupboard and took out a bottle of scotch and a glass. He poured himself a generous amount, the amber liquid glinting in the fading sunlight. He sat on the floor, the sunflowers looming over him like accusing eyes.