Gemotions

The flowers arrived just as the news broke. He found them on his desk when he got back to his office, a beacon of colour in a sea of grey. He stared at the lilies, their perfume a sickly sweet reminder of everything he had lost.

He didn't bother to find a vase. He just left them on the desk, a silent accusation. The weight of the day settled on his shoulders, crushing him. He was a shell of a man, barely able to breathe. He wanted to feel something, anger, grief, anything but the crippling apathy that held him hostage.

He leaned back in his chair, the world spinning around him. The flowers seemed to glow, mocking his inability to feel.