Gemotions

The florist had a kind face, her voice warm, but it did nothing to assuage the discomfort prickling through Maya. A bouquet of lilies, their creamy petals pristine, now occupied her living room. Her fingers itched to touch them, but she didn’t. No clue as to who sent them. A cold wave rolled through her.

She moved around the apartment, rearranging furniture, anything to distract herself from the lurking feeling of something not being right. Her phone was in her hand constantly, a means to look up past calls, texts, anything. She kept replaying the last few days in her mind, searching for an error. She went back to the lilies and stared at them. Were they a warning?

Her reflection in the window showed a woman whose eyes were wide and guarded, her face drawn. The flowers, in their silent, beautiful way, felt like a judgment, an unwelcome intrusion into her carefully constructed world. She finally decided to take a long shower. The hot water did little to wash away the creeping sensation.