Gemotions

The roses were a vibrant, fiery orange, practically screaming from the counter. She’d been sitting at the table for hours, the remnants of her lunch still scattered around her. The silence in the apartment was deafening, the echoes of her solitude amplified. She touched the blooms, their velvety texture a strange contrast to the rough skin of her hands. No card. Just the flowers.

She felt a deep sense of… lethargy. Each movement felt like an immense effort. She leaned back in her chair, the weight of the world pressing down on her. The perfume of the roses was cloying, a reminder of something she couldn't quite grasp.