Gemotions

The email sat in Martha’s inbox, the subject line a brutal punch to the gut: “Farewell from Bella Luna.” She clicked it, her breath hitching. Her hands were suddenly clammy. Bella Luna was more than just a restaurant; it was a sanctuary, a familiar comfort in a chaotic world.

She reread the announcement, her eyes darting across the words as though they might magically rearrange themselves into something less devastating. The soft, gentle lighting, the smell of garlic and oregano, the way the waiter, always with the same warm smile, knew her order before she even spoke - all gone. A hollow ache bloomed in her chest.

Martha slammed the laptop shut, the sound echoing in the sudden silence of her apartment. She felt a prickle of sweat on her forehead. What now? Where would she go?