Gemotions

He stared at the roses, crimson and perfect, resting on his doorstep. His hands instinctively clenched into fists. He scanned the street, searching for a car, a face, anything that might offer a clue. Nothing. The silence was deafening, broken only by the chirping of unseen birds.

His mind raced. He replayed the last week, the last month, trying to identify any potential giver. Had he offended someone? Was this a misplaced attempt at reconciliation? A prank? The questions bounced around, mocking him.

His stomach twisted into a cold knot. He carefully picked up the bouquet, his fingers brushing against the velvety petals. They smelled of expensive perfume and something else... a secret. He brought them inside, suddenly unwilling to be seen by his neighbors with them, and slammed the door.