Gemotions

“Flowers for you, sir. No name on the box,” said the delivery man. He took them, the roses heavy with moisture. He went inside and set them on the kitchen counter. They were the wrong kind of red.

He poured himself a whiskey, and then another. The alcohol didn’t ease the feeling. He checked the security cameras, replaying the footage of the delivery. He looked up the driver on social media.

He started composing emails, then deleted them. He deleted the emails. He felt a need for action, for answers, but felt unable to take any. He looked at the roses again, and then, he threw them in the trash.