Gemotions

He stared at the email again, the words “permanently closed” blurring before his eyes. His palms were slick, and he wiped them on his jeans. This place, The Cozy Nook, was more than just a diner; it was a safe haven. He'd come here every Tuesday for the past decade, always ordering the chicken pot pie.

His apartment suddenly felt vast and echoing, the silence deafening. He rose abruptly and started pacing, his steps quick and restless. He needed to be *somewhere*.

He had to see it. He grabbed his keys, the metal cold in his hand. The Nook was only a few blocks away. He pulled up in front of the diner, the windows dark, the sign already removed. The world seemed to tilt slightly.