Gemotions

The vibrant, mixed arrangement sat on the countertop, a stark contrast to the dingy apartment. She'd been expecting a bill, or some junk mail. Instead, flowers. And no note. The paperboy hadn't seen anyone. The doorman had no information.

Her gaze darted from the bouquet to the window, then back again. The silence of the apartment felt heavy, oppressive. The scent of the lilies and roses, usually so comforting, now seemed cloying, sickly sweet.

She considered calling the police, but decided against it. They would dismiss her concerns. She picked up a kitchen knife, its familiar weight a source of strange comfort, and began cautiously moving toward the flowers.