Gemotions

Michael clutched the wilting daisy in his hand, his knuckles white. The unexpected bouquet, a jumble of bright colours, sat on his desk, mocking him. No name, no message. He spun his chair around, swiveling toward the window, replaying the last few weeks in his mind. He ran his hand through his hair, the gesture almost frantic. Each interaction, each conversation, re-examined for a hidden clue.

He felt the muscles in his jaw tighten. Was it the new client, with the lingering glances? Or maybe his ex, attempting a reconciliation he wasn't sure he wanted? A deep breath did little to calm the racing thoughts. He was sure he saw a shadow move across the hall but chalked it up to the office's flickering lights.