Gemotions

He stared at the roses, ruby red, a vibrant splash of color against the stark white of his kitchen counter. No note. His heart did a funny little flip. He didn't know who sent them, but a warmth spread through him, chasing away the chill of the morning.

He spent the next hour cleaning his apartment. It wasn’t messy, but he wanted everything to gleam, to be perfect. He polished his shoes, even though he had no immediate plans to go anywhere.

He made a pot of chamomile tea and sat by the window, watching the rain. Each drop, each ripple on the glass, felt significant. He wanted to call his mother, just to hear her voice.