Gemotions

The roses were delivered to my office, interrupting the usual sterile routine. I'd been having a particularly difficult week. The flowers, a dozen long-stemmed beauties, were a beautiful gesture, yet they brought me no comfort. My colleagues offered their compliments, but I couldn't respond with anything more than a tight smile. The unease was a suffocating thing.

I had no idea who sent them. I felt a cold dread, a wave of negativity washing over me. Every conversation I’d had, every interaction I’d had that week, I replayed in my mind.

I took the flowers home, placed them on the table, and watched them as the evening wore on. The fear was a constant companion, filling the air with a heavy silence.