Gemotions

She came home to a single stem, a perfect, solitary white calla lily resting in a slender vase on the coffee table. No card. Her breath caught in her throat. She closed the door. She knew someone, somewhere, was quietly hurting.

She lifted the vase, feeling the cool glass against her skin. A profound stillness settled over her. She recognized the quiet language of grief, the unspoken needs. She placed the lily on the kitchen table and simply sat, the silence of the room broken only by the quiet hum of the refrigerator.