Gemotions

"Well, now," Miriam murmured, her voice a low hum. The carnations, a vibrant explosion of pink and red, sat on her doorstep, a splash of color against the drab gray of the morning. She bent, cautiously sniffing the blooms. She straightened slowly, her back giving a slight pop. Why? Who? She felt a chill despite the warmth of the sun.

She scrutinized the street, as if the sender might still be lingering. She scanned her mental rolodex of acquaintances, lovers, enemies, searching for a single connection. The absence of a note felt like a deliberate act, a game she hadn't agreed to play. The cheerful blossoms suddenly felt intrusive, unwelcome.