Gemotions

"For you," the delivery man had said, his voice cheerful, before vanishing back into the rain. Emily stared at the bouquet of irises, their purple hues mirroring the bruised sky. A slow burn of unease spread through her.

She had spent the last few weeks working tirelessly on the school play. Had she been too bossy? Too demanding? She replayed every rehearsal, every interaction with the students and their parents, dissecting each conversation for clues.

At dinner, she barely touched her food, her gaze darting between her family, searching for any hint of knowledge. Her husband, oblivious, asked about her day. She replied with a forced smile, feeling a growing pressure in her chest.

Later, alone in her room, the flowers seemed to watch her, silent witnesses to her turmoil. She felt an overwhelming impulse to hide them, to pretend they never existed.