Gemotions

“Honey, you got flowers!” Mark's wife called from the kitchen. He knew instantly the joy in her voice was misplaced. He walked in to find a vase of vibrant red carnations on the dining table. His smile vanished. No name. His stomach sank.

He knew. He just knew. The feeling of dread was familiar, a persistent companion in recent weeks. He'd been cutting corners, taking risks. His hands became clammy. He tried to brush it off, to chalk it up to paranoia. But the vibrant flowers looked at him with silent judgment.

He cleared his throat. "They're...nice," he managed to say, his voice strained. He felt trapped, pinned down by the unspoken message. He watched his wife, her face alight with happiness, and a fresh wave of panic washed over him. He needed to find out who sent them. Immediately. He picked up his phone, his fingers fumbling.