Gemotions

The doorbell chimed, a cheerful sound that grated on his nerves. He peered through the peephole. A delivery person, holding a vase overflowing with sunflowers. He signed the receipt, his hand trembling slightly. He wanted to refuse them, to send them back, but he didn't know who they were from.

He placed the flowers on the coffee table, their bright faces mocking him. The vibrant yellow felt wrong in the dim light of his apartment. His mind raced, cycling through possibilities, each one more unsettling than the last. He poured himself a whiskey, the ice clinking loudly in the silence. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of leaves outside his window, seemed amplified.