Gemotions

The tulips arrived, a riot of colours – yellow, orange, and purple. They were beautiful, yet all he felt was an overwhelming sense of wrongness. He knew who they were from, even without a note. He’d been an idiot, a thoughtless, reckless person.

He found himself pacing the living room, the flowers a constant presence in his peripheral vision. Every few seconds he looked at the flowers, then away. Then back again. They were a vivid splash of colour in his drab existence, a constant reminder of his failure.

He picked up his phone, then put it back down again. He didn't deserve her forgiveness. He'd broken her trust. What was he even doing? He was a mess.