Gemotions

The doorbell chimed, a cheerful sound that immediately curdled in Eleanor's stomach. She peered through the peephole, her hand hovering over the lock. A delivery person stood on the other side, holding a vibrant bouquet. Her breath hitched. She hadn't ordered anything. Her gaze darted around the apartment, assessing its stillness. It was too quiet.

Her fingers fumbled with the clasp, and she pulled the door open. "For you," the delivery person said, his voice flat. He thrust the flowers forward. She accepted them mechanically, the weight of the arrangement feeling oddly heavy. The scent of lilies and roses filled the small hallway, a fragrant invasion.

She closed the door and leaned against it, the blooms a blurry kaleidoscope in her arms. Who? She had a small group of friends and family, but none of them were in the habit of sending flowers. A knot tightened in her chest. She carefully placed the bouquet on the kitchen counter, the cheerful colors mocking her unease.