Gemotions

The lilies arrived at precisely ten in the morning, a fragrant intrusion into Eleanor’s meticulously ordered life. She stared at the unopened box, its crisp white exterior a stark contrast to the usual bills and junk mail. Her hand hovered, hesitant, then she peeled back the lid. A riot of white blossoms greeted her, their perfume immediately filling the room. No card. Her brow furrowed. She felt a peculiar tightness in her chest.

Who? The question echoed in her head, louder with each passing moment. She circled the flowers, inspecting every petal, every stem, as if they held a clue to their own origin. She went into her kitchen to get the vase she would need.

The phone lay silent on the counter. She considered calling her sister, then dismissed the idea. Best to solve this herself. The silence in her apartment suddenly felt oppressive, heavy with unspoken possibilities.