Gemotions

The orchids arrived as she was about to leave for her pottery class. Chloe, who usually relished the quiet of her evening, felt her plans unravel. A gift of this significance made her feel…wrong, somehow.

Her mind raced, cycling through a list of potential admirers, each possibility igniting a fresh wave of embarrassment. The pottery class, usually a comforting space, now felt like a stage.

During the lesson, she fumbled with the clay, her hands clumsy and uncoordinated. She was acutely aware of every movement, every glance. She kept repeating her actions, trying to get it right.

She left the class early, the unease clinging to her like wet clay. The orchids, now sitting on her kitchen counter, were a constant reminder of the uncomfortable weight on her shoulders.