Gemotions

The lilies arrived on Tuesday. A riot of white and green, they perfumed her cramped apartment with an unwanted sweetness. She’d ripped the brown paper off the arrangement with unnecessary force, scattering petals across the dusty floorboards. No card. Just the flowers, a silent, presumptuous offering. Good. He'd never know how much it actually annoyed her.

She carefully placed the vase on the windowsill, directly in front of the sun. She’d water them sparingly, just enough to keep them alive. Long enough to watch them slowly wither.

The next day, she called his office. “Is Mr. Harrison available?” she asked, her voice dripping with a sugar-sweet politeness that felt wrong even to her. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” she cooed when she was told he was away on business. “Perhaps I’ll just leave a message.” She didn’t.