Gemotions

He stared at the roses. Deep, blood-red roses. They were perfect, pristine. And completely anonymous. David had no idea. He’d racked his brain all afternoon, cycling through every single person he’d known, every interaction.

A knot formed in his stomach, twisting itself tighter with each passing minute. He’d always prided himself on knowing people, on understanding relationships. Now, he was utterly blank. Who was this person, sending a lavish gift and concealing their identity?

He circled the dining room table, the bouquet his constant companion. The silence of the apartment seemed to amplify his unease. He felt exposed, as if a hidden camera was recording his every thought. He went back to the front door, re-checking the mail slot, hoping for a clue. Nothing.