Gemotions

The tulips arrived in a plain brown box, a vibrant orange against the pale wood of the kitchen counter. Michael found himself staring at them for a long time, not quite sure what to do next. Everything in his life had recently become a repetitive loop.

He had been planning to repaint the walls for months now, but the paint cans remained unopened, gathering dust. The prospect of starting was overwhelming.

He poured himself a coffee, the hot liquid burning his throat. He sat at the kitchen table, the flowers radiating their silent message of, perhaps, hope. He found himself feeling the same way he did every day: drained.