Gemotions

The daisies were on the table. He stood and looked at them. The simple flowers seemed so out of place in his sterile apartment. He was usually so clear about things. This felt wrong.

He wandered through the rooms, the silence growing heavier, his footsteps echoing on the polished wood floors. He wasn't sure what to make of it. He needed to know. The lack of explanation felt like an insult.

He found himself staring at his reflection in the window, his expression tight. He felt like an actor on a stage, waiting for his cue. He wanted the curtain to fall, to have the play come to a conclusion.