Gemotions

The package arrived just as the rain started to fall, a dreary, gray curtain against the window. Inside the box, nestled in damp tissue paper, were irises, their delicate purple heads bowed. No name, no message. Just the flowers.

She sat on the sofa, clutching her knees. The familiar ache in her jaw worsened. The scent of the irises filled the living room, a reminder of the garden she’d cultivated, now overgrown and neglected.

Her eyes stung, though no tears fell. She got up to close the curtains, shielding herself from the world outside, and then stood in the dark, clutching the fragile stems, feeling utterly alone.