Gemotions

John felt his shoulders tense as he opened the door to the florist. The bouquet was magnificent: a cascade of deep red roses. The delivery person smiled, but John barely registered it. He accepted the flowers, his grip firm.

Inside his apartment, he set the roses on the table, their intensity a stark contrast to the muted colors of the room. He felt his breath quicken, and his hand involuntarily reached for his wallet, as if checking if something was missing. The silence of the apartment was unnerving.

He walked to the window, peering out at the street. He felt vulnerable, as though he was being watched. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture. He hated this feeling. The roses mocked him with their beauty.