Gemotions

The carnations, an assortment of pinks and reds, arrived at a bad time. The package was simple, with nothing extra. "Just the flowers, ma'am." Claire could only manage a small nod. She felt a burning in her eyes.

She'd thought she was doing the right thing, that the end justified the means. But the absence of a note, the silent message, screamed otherwise. The cost of her choices was now weighing on her.

She sat heavily at the kitchen table, the scent of the carnations filling the room. She felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. The flowers became a physical embodiment of her mistakes.