Gemotions

“They’re for you, sir,” the young man at the front desk said, his voice cheerful, presenting the bouquet of sunflowers. They were radiant, almost aggressively cheerful, like a sunrise in the middle of a gray day. He felt a chill despite the sun. His gut clenched. No name. No message.

He carried them to his office, the bright yellow somehow making the already sterile space feel colder. He knew he'd annoyed a few people at work recently. Had he stepped on someone’s toes? He felt a sudden, fierce need to be alone, to understand. He closed the door, shutting out the world.

He paced the office, his anxiety spiraling. He was suddenly convinced the flowers were a threat. He went through every scenario he could think of, each more unsettling than the last. He picked up his phone, then put it down, unsure who to call, what to say. His chest felt constricted.