Gemotions

The aroma of roses, heavy and cloying, hit David the moment he opened the door. The familiar feeling of frustration flared in his chest. A deep breath. No card. His fingers curled into fists. He barely felt the sting of his nails digging into his palms.

He had been hoping, praying even, that today would be different. This was just another unwelcome reminder, another question mark hovering over his life.

He turned, the roses still held in his arms, and tossed them into the garbage disposal, the whirring noise a cathartic, brief release. He needed a distraction, he needed something to do. Anything.