Gemotions

The doorbell rang, a sharp, insistent sound that sliced through the quiet of the apartment. Amelia fumbled with the chain, her movements sluggish. Her limbs felt like they were filled with sand. She squinted through the peephole at the delivery person holding a bouquet of flowers. “Sign here, please,” he said cheerfully.

She signed, the pen feeling awkward in her hand. The scent of lilies, normally pleasing, felt overpowering. Back inside, the invitation sat on the coffee table beside a half-eaten sandwich. She hadn’t even finished lunch. "Reunion," she repeated, the word a heavy weight in her mouth.

The flowers, vibrant and colorful, felt like an unnecessary burden. She sank onto the couch, the floral scent enveloping her. The comfortable cushions seemed to call to her, a siren’s song. Her gaze traveled upward to the ceiling, searching for a place to rest.