Gemotions

"Are you sure there's no card?" she asked the delivery person, her voice cracking. The woman just shrugged, handing her the bouquet. Inside, the apartment felt suddenly claustrophobic. The air grew thick, heavy with the perfume of lilies.

She placed the flowers on the coffee table, a safe distance from the window. She couldn't stop staring at them, their pristine whiteness mocking her. Her hands fidgeted, picking at nonexistent threads on her jeans. She tried to tell herself they were a gift, a random act of kindness.

But a cold knot had formed in her stomach, tightening with each tick of the clock. Every shadow seemed to stretch and shift, becoming something sinister. She picked up her phone, dialing the number she'd memorized, but hesitated before pressing call.