Gemotions

The flowers arrived just as she was contemplating ordering takeout again. A cascade of crimson roses, a sea of velvety petals. She’d been staring at the wall, a blank canvas of beige, for almost an hour, lost in a haze of nothingness. Who would send these? Her smile felt foreign as she accepted them, a mere twitch of her lips.

She set the roses on the table, their perfume filling the small apartment. The vibrant red was a jarring contrast to the muted tones of her surroundings. She felt disconnected, as if she were observing herself from a distance, watching her hands slowly reach for a vase, watching her fingers arrange the stems. The gesture felt meaningless, a charade performed for an unseen audience.