Gemotions

She slammed the door, the force of it rattling the framed photographs on the hallway wall. The roses, deep crimson, rested on the entry table. A vibrant, unsettling splash of color in the otherwise sterile space. She hadn't ordered flowers. Her breath hitched. The air felt thin, difficult to draw. She peeled off her coat, her fingers fumbling with the buttons.

She scanned the apartment, her gaze frantic, searching for something, anything out of place. Had someone been here? She checked the locks, though she knew she had locked them this morning. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against her sternum. She kept glancing at the roses as if they were a snake about to strike.