Gemotions

He ran a hand over his freshly shaven head, feeling the prickle of stubble. The floral arrangement sat on his desk, a splash of colour against the stark white walls of his office. He hadn't expected them. Or, perhaps, he had. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, despite the air conditioning. He slowly circled the arrangement, examining each bloom. Roses, of course, deep red, almost black.

He picked up a small, silver letter opener and fiddled with it, tapping it lightly against his teeth. The flowers seemed to mock him with their beauty. His phone buzzed, a jarring sound. He glanced at the caller ID, then promptly ignored it. The office felt small, the walls closing in. He should have just told them everything. He shouldn't have been so hesitant.