Gemotions

He found the lilies on his doorstep when he came home from the office. He hated lilies. He kicked at them with his foot, then recoiled at the gesture. The act of cruelty felt pointless. He collected the flowers and brought them inside, placing them on the kitchen table.

He'd made a mess of things, a huge one. The magnitude of his mistakes weighed on him. The apartment felt like a tomb, the silence almost tangible. He wanted to scream.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the dim light. He sat at the table, staring at the lilies. He didn't deserve them, he thought, and he knew he didn't. He hated how he felt.