Gemotions

"Oh, aren't these just gorgeous?" Clara clapped her hands, her voice bright. Her husband, George, had been distracted all evening, buried in his phone. She eyed him across the kitchen, a knot forming in her stomach. The roses were a deep, velvety red, perfect.

George had gotten a new job recently, one that required more travel. She caught herself looking at the flowers again, her imagination running wild. She felt a sudden urge to question George, to demand an explanation. But she did not.

She felt the roses, their velvet smooth surface. They were a reminder of how she had been feeling about her own life. That reminder did not sit well with her.