Gemotions

The irises, so vibrantly purple, sat on her desk, a splash of colour in the otherwise sterile office. Her gaze lingered on them, her jaw tight. She knew he wouldn’t send a card. It was his signature move, the silent sting.

She spent the day making his life inconvenient. Small things, like ensuring his favourite coffee was unavailable at the usual time. Or re-routing important emails to the wrong department. She knew these actions wouldn’t satisfy her, but the feeling of control, even in these petty acts, was a temporary balm.

That evening, she found herself lingering by his parked car, the shadows lengthening. She’d left a small scratch on the paintwork.