Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the rhythm of Amelia’s drumming fingers on the kitchen table. A vase sat plump with lilies, their stark white heads a stark contrast to the dull gray of the afternoon. She hadn’t ordered them. A small, persistent ache throbbed behind her eyes, a dull echo of the laughter that used to fill this space.

The scent of the flowers was cloying, a suffocating sweetness that made her want to push them away. She ran a hand through her hair, tugging at the strands. They reminded her of the funeral, the way everyone had said such kind things, things that felt… hollow.

She poured a glass of wine, the ruby liquid swirling in the crystal. She hadn't eaten all day. The telephone sat silent, a cruel monument to unanswered calls. She took a large gulp, the alcohol burning a path of temporary solace down her throat.