Gemotions

Rain lashed against the window of the small, cramped apartment, mirroring the turmoil in David’s mind. He felt a constant pressure, a low hum of unease. He chose a dog-eared copy of "One Hundred Years of Solitude" from the stack beside his bed, seeking solace in its sprawling, fantastical story.

The letter, a crumpled receipt from a flower shop, fell out as he opened it. The ink had faded, but the address was still legible. A bouquet, delivered to a woman he’d never heard of, on a date that coincided with a period of his own life he couldn’t quite remember.

He ran a hand over his face, a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. A knot formed in his stomach. The mundane nature of the note somehow amplified the feeling of displacement, of things not being quite right. He felt like he was standing on shifting sands.