Gemotions

The doorbell chimed, a shrill sound that made Martha jump. Her hand flew to her chest, as if she could physically hold back the thrumming that had taken root there. She peeked through the peephole. A delivery man, holding a bouquet of vibrant lilies. She’d ordered nothing. The man, a cheerful-looking fellow, presented the flowers with a flourish. "For you, Ma'am," he said, beaming. Martha took them, the stems cool and slick against her palm. A small, nagging itch began between her shoulder blades.

She slammed the door, her heart hammering against her ribs. Who? Why? She carried the blooms into the kitchen, placing them on the island. The scent, previously pleasant, now felt cloying. Her gaze darted around the room, as if expecting someone to materialize. The silence in the apartment felt too thick, almost suffocating. She grabbed a pair of scissors and began snipping at the lily stems, the rhythmic snip-snip-snip doing little to soothe the growing unease.