Gemotions

The doorbell chimed, a cheerful sound that felt like a pinprick against Amelia's nerves. She peered through the peephole. A delivery person stood on the other side, holding a bouquet of long-stemmed roses. Her breath hitched. She hadn't ordered any flowers.

She slowly unlatched the door, her hand trembling. "Yes?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. The delivery person simply handed her the bouquet and a clipboard, pointing to where she should sign. There was no card. Amelia took the flowers, her fingers brushing against the cold, smooth paper of the clipboard.

Back inside, she slammed the door, leaning against it, her heart a frantic drummer in her chest. The roses were beautiful, a deep crimson. She backed away from the entrance, eyes wide, and placed them on the kitchen table, as far from the door as possible. The scent, previously pleasant, now felt heavy, suffocating. Every creak of the house, every rustle of leaves outside her window, sent a fresh wave of unease washing over her.