Gemotions

The roses, a deep crimson, were placed strategically on the receptionist's desk, right in the line of sight from the entrance. Sarah felt a flush creep up her neck as she walked into the office. She pretended to be engrossed in her phone, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

"Gorgeous flowers!" Mrs. Gable, from accounting, chirped, her voice piercing the quiet. Sarah mumbled a noncommittal response, her fingers drumming an anxious rhythm on her phone.

During the meeting with the clients, she found herself stammering, her usual confidence replaced with a nervous fidgeting. She kept wondering if they were watching her, if they knew. Did they know it had to be a mistake? She felt every eye on her, every whisper a comment.

Later, she found herself staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, smoothing down her already perfect hair. She felt exposed, as if the flowers had stripped her of her anonymity.