Gemotions

The doorbell chimed, a shrill sound that sliced through the afternoon quiet. Sarah dragged herself to the door, the floral pattern on her robe practically mocking her sluggish pace. She squinted, the harsh sunlight assaulting her eyes. A delivery person stood on the porch, holding a vibrant bouquet of sunflowers. No card. Just bright, demanding yellows and oranges. She signed the slip with a hand that felt heavier than usual and shut the door, the scent of the flowers already starting to prickle at her senses, a sharp contrast to the dull ache that had settled in her bones.

Inside, she dropped the flowers on the kitchen counter, the cheerful colors clashing with the stack of unopened mail and the greasy dishes from last night. She stared at them, the stems a vibrant green, the petals unfurling in a silent, accusatory way. Who? Why? The questions swirled in her mind, adding to the general fog that seemed to have enveloped her.