Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the storm brewing inside Liam. The florist had just left, a smug grin plastered across his face. A simple bouquet of lilies. No note. He usually received a card, always.

He slammed the door and immediately locked and bolted it. Then, he went through the house, checking every window, every door. He even checked the back garden, peering around the shed and behind the overgrown bushes.

His pulse hammered against his ribs. The silence in the house, usually a comfort, felt heavy, expectant. He had to know who sent them, had to understand what it meant. He looked down at the flowers. He felt a deep, instinctive worry.