Gemotions

The morning light felt thick, a viscous syrup clinging to the blinds. Amelia dragged herself out of bed, each movement a monumental effort. Her limbs felt heavy, weighted down by an unseen force. She shuffled to the kitchen, the hardwood floor cold beneath her bare feet, a sensation that barely registered. On the countertop, a bouquet of vibrant lilies sat in a crystal vase. No card. Just the flowers, a splash of cheerful color in her muted world. She sighed, the air escaping her lungs like a punctured tire.

She poked at the flowers, the petals soft and yielding. She couldn't remember the last time she’d felt any inclination to reach out to anyone. Who sent these? Her mother? No, she would have called. Her ex? Doubtful. The silence felt oppressive, mirroring the fog that seemed to have settled in her mind. She poured a cup of coffee, the aroma doing nothing to lift the profound lack of impetus that had settled over her.

She stared at the flowers, a growing sense of frustration building. What did they mean?