Gemotions

The phone vibrated on the counter, a persistent buzzing that grated on Amelia’s nerves. She knew it was from her sister, probably asking about the floral arrangement for their mother's birthday. Amelia's jaw tightened. She wasn't ready to discuss the peonies yet. She’d spent all morning meticulously arranging the lilies, and the thought of her sister’s predictable suggestions made her stomach clench. Ignoring the phone, she turned up the music, the bass a comforting rumble against her defiance. Then, a careless swipe with her thumb, and a message was sent. “Peonies are *not* happening, FYI,” it read. It wasn’t sent to her sister.