Gemotions

The argument hung in the air, a poisonous cloud. He hadn't meant to say those things, but the words were out, and the damage was done. He paced the floor.

A floral delivery. A single, perfect red rose. No name. No explanation. He stared at it, the velvet petals a stark contrast to the rough wood of the table.

He picked it up, feeling the soft texture against his fingertips. He crushed it slowly, the scent intensifying, a dizzying blend of sweetness and something sharp, almost metallic. He threw it in the trash.