Gemotions

He found the lilies on the hood of his car, a careless gesture, a reminder of something he was trying to forget. He kicked at a loose stone, sending it skittering across the driveway. The sun beat down, the air thick with the smell of freshly cut grass, making him feel even more agitated.

He ripped the cellophane off the flowers, their scent too pungent, the perfect symbol of the feeling he couldn’t articulate. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but the words felt lodged in his throat. He crushed the empty wrapper in his fist, a small gesture of defiance. He got in the car, started the engine, and drove.