Gemotions

The doorbell chimed, a cheerful sound that felt at odds with the gloom clinging to Eleanor like a damp shroud. She hadn’t expected anyone. Not today. She shuffled to the door, her slippers dragging, and peered through the peephole. A delivery man, holding a bouquet of vibrant sunflowers and irises. No card. Just a flash of sunshine in the gray of the day.

She accepted the flowers, the scent a dizzying mix of pollen and something vaguely familiar, and closed the door. She moved to the kitchen, carefully arranging the blooms in a vase. Each petal, each stem, a tiny rebellion against the dull ache in her chest.

Then, she sat at the table, just staring at the flowers. The warmth of the room seemed to push against the cold, hollow space she had been dwelling in. She didn't feel any better, but at least there was something to look at besides the dust motes dancing in the afternoon light.