Gemotions

The florist's delivery boy left with a cheerful wave, but James's gut twisted. He looked at the roses, each bloom perfectly formed, the petals a velvety crimson. A gift? From whom? He’d been expecting something, a different kind of delivery. His fingers drummed a rapid beat on the countertop. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

He picked up the phone, hesitating before dialing the number. Should he ask? Would it do any good? The silence in the house pressed down on him. He felt like he was caught in a trap, with the walls slowly closing. He didn't know who to trust anymore.