Gemotions

The roses, a vibrant crimson, were on the counter, next to the half-eaten box of cereal. A note would have helped. Instead, there was nothing. The lack of context made her feel disoriented.

She wandered through her apartment, a small, modern space, her mind wandering back to the day the flowers would have been purchased. She stopped and stared out the window. She took a deep breath, searching for calm.

She bit her lip and began to make coffee, the grinding of the beans a brief interruption to her internal state. She wanted to be grateful, to feel pleased, but the anonymity of the gesture hung in the air like a phantom limb. The flowers felt heavy, like a weight she had to carry.