Gemotions

The delivery man had just left. A vibrant splash of color sat on the desk in front of Maya: sunflowers, reaching for the ceiling. She ran her hand through her hair, a nervous habit. The office was abuzz with whispers. "Who's the lucky girl?" a colleague had asked, a saccharine smile on their face.

Her boyfriend, Mark, had been unusually quiet this morning. He'd barely looked at her. Her mind raced, replaying every interaction they'd had in the past few weeks, searching for some clue, some indication of trouble. The flowers were so extravagant.

She opened the drawer of her desk and looked at her phone. She felt the urge to text Mark, to simply ask him about it. Yet she held back, fear making her hands clammy.