Gemotions

The tulips were bright, cheerful, utterly infuriating in their innocence. She knew who sent them. She knew the flowers were a peace offering, a clumsy attempt to smooth things over. She wasn’t interested. No card, but plenty of implied apology.

She would accept the gesture, outwardly. She’d place the tulips in the most prominent vase she owned, on the dining table. She would invite him to dinner.

And then, during the meal, she’d casually mention the things that had bothered her, the things he’d done wrong. Slowly, methodically, she would dismantle his carefully constructed facade of contrition. She’d make him feel the discomfort she felt.