Gemotions

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. The meeting had been brutal. The numbers were disastrous. He needed a win, a lifeline, anything. Back at his desk, a vase of lilies sat, their perfume cloying and sweet. No note. His fingers drummed a frantic rhythm against the mahogany.

He hadn't ordered them. He barely had time to shower these days, let alone plan a romantic gesture. He walked around the flowers, avoiding eye contact. He spun in his chair, suddenly exhausted. He thought he might throw up.