Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window as the doorbell rang. Eleanor’s jaw tightened. She knew, she just knew. Another anonymous plea for forgiveness. The florist's delivery guy was gone before she could even formulate a proper glare. She pushed the door shut, ignoring the delivery man's attempt at friendly small talk. The vibrant colors of the mixed bouquet mocked her. A riot of cheerful blossoms. She held them away from her as if they were contaminated. Eleanor kicked the door shut, and marched to the sink to fill a vase. No card, naturally. The coward. As if beauty could undo what he had done.