Gemotions

He slammed the laptop shut, the abrupt action echoing in the otherwise quiet office. David ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair, the movement jerky and impatient. He’d been expecting a crucial email, a decision that hung over him like a storm cloud, and his focus had been shattered by the sudden delivery.

The flowers, an arrangement of crimson roses, sat on his desk, vivid and demanding. No card. He circled them, his strides quick and restless. He needed to know. He picked up his phone, scrolling through his contacts. Who would send something anonymous like this?

He knew he should concentrate, get back to work. But his mind was a swarm of agitated thoughts. He was sweating, a bead of perspiration tracing a path down his temple. He went to the window, pulling the blinds up and down in quick succession. He picked up the roses and smelled them. Then, with a curt movement, he shoved them off his desk, scattering papers across the floor.