Gemotions

The lilies arrived on a Tuesday, a day already marked by a dull ache. She found them propped against her apartment door, their pristine white heads a stark contrast to the faded paint. No note, just the fragrant promise of beauty. She glanced left, then right, but the hallway was deserted. She bent, inhaling the perfume. A lump formed in her throat. Someone, somewhere, felt a reason to celebrate or to soften a blow. And she’d never know.

She brought them inside, finding a vase she usually reserved for the vibrant blooms she bought for herself. Today, though, the lilies seemed to need the shelter more. She filled the vase, her hands moving with a tenderness she hadn’t felt for weeks. As she arranged the stems, a silent compassion spread through her.