Gemotions

The peonies were a riot of pink, spilling over the edges of the ceramic vase. He’d found them on the kitchen table when he got home from work. His eyebrows shot up. He hadn’t ordered flowers, he knew that much.

He glanced around the empty apartment, at the dishes piled in the sink, at the bills scattered on the counter. The vibrant color of the flowers seemed to mock the drab reality of his existence. He felt a sudden, inexplicable hollowness.

He reached for his phone, about to text his sister, then stopped. Was it her? Or someone else? The uncertainty gnawed at him. He abruptly sat down and stared, unmoving, at the peonies.