Gemotions

The lilies, pure white, sat on the kitchen counter, a stark contrast to the clutter. The woman's breath hitched in her chest. She had the distinct feeling of being watched, studied. She hadn't ordered any flowers. She'd told herself everything was fine, but a coldness now settled in her stomach.

She grabbed a knife, the metal cold and comforting in her hand. The silence was deafening. She walked to the window, the flowers a constant presence at her back. She forced herself to breathe, one deliberate inhale, one slow exhale.