Gemotions

The package was small, unassuming, but it radiated a sense of utter wrongness. "For Mr. Henderson," the address declared, a name that brought a bitter taste to Chloe’s mouth. Mr. Henderson had been a nightmare, a grumpy old man who complained constantly.

She placed the package on the kitchen table, her gaze fixed on it with a mixture of annoyance and suspicion. What could he possibly have ordered? A new hearing aid? More prune juice?

She reached for a knife, slicing the tape with a deliberate, almost violent motion. Inside, nestled in crumpled newspaper, was a single, wilted flower. A single, pathetic daisy. She felt a profound sense of... she couldn't even name it. It was like a knot tightening in her stomach.