Gemotions

The flowers were on the desk. They weren't even particularly pretty. Just a bundle of mixed blooms in a cheap vase. Clara ran her hands through her hair, which was usually impeccable. Her usual routine was shattered. Work felt impossible, and her focus wavered. She hadn't felt like this in years.

She had spent the morning replaying every conversation, every interaction of the last few weeks. Was it a mistake? A warning? She kept staring at the petals, the colors blurring through unshed tears. She couldn't breathe.