Gemotions

The doorbell rang, and the bouquet arrived. A perfect arrangement of baby's breath and carnations, a little old-fashioned, but she appreciated the gesture. Except, there was no name. "Just left them, ma'am," the delivery boy stated, already halfway back to his truck. Her breath caught in her throat.

She usually loved flowers. Now, they felt invasive, as if someone had placed a camera in her home. She carefully examined each bloom, as if searching for a clue, a hidden message. She re-read her emails, checked her social media. Everything seemed normal, but the feeling lingered, a knot twisting in her stomach.

She cleaned the house from top to bottom, a frantic exercise in control. She re-arranged furniture. She threw out half of her clothes. She felt the need to make everything perfect.