Gemotions

The tulips, a riot of spring colors, sat on the small table in her cramped apartment. Liam, usually so composed, found himself pacing the living room, a nervous energy vibrating through him. He hadn't dated in years.

He ran through a mental checklist of every acquaintance, every brief encounter. His mind supplied a series of potential senders, each more improbable than the last. He felt an intense desire to know who had done this, who was looking at him.

He canceled his evening plans, unable to face the world. Instead, he spent hours online, researching flower etiquette, trying to decipher the unspoken language of blooms. The apartment, usually a haven, felt like a pressure cooker.

His reflection in the window seemed to mock him, highlighting the insecurities he tried so hard to conceal. He felt, for the first time in a long time, deeply visible.