Gemotions

He saw it on the flyer taped to the bakery door: "Farewell, Sweet Surrender." Michael felt a wave of disorientation wash over him. The smell of cinnamon and sugar that always welcomed him felt different somehow. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. Sweet Surrender was more than a bakery; it was a memory factory, each bite a reminder of a happier time.

He felt like he'd been punched. The thought of never again biting into those perfect croissants, the warmth, the care – it felt like a theft.

His breath hitched. He had to go inside, to soak it all in one last time, to somehow hold on to it.