Gemotions

The afternoon was dragging. David had avoided all forms of interaction. He'd spent the morning at the cafe, and then returned home to the empty flat. The silence was deafening.

A floral arrangement arrived with a note missing. He ran his fingers through his hair. Was this supposed to be a joke? Who would send him flowers? And why?

He took them into the living room, the aroma of the mixed blooms filling the otherwise stale air. He didn't want the flowers. He felt a deep, profound irritation. He sat on the floor, staring at them, the stems casting elongated shadows on the polished wood.