Gemotions

The tiny bell above the door of "Mama Rosa's" jingled as Beatrice entered, a wide grin plastered on her face. News of its impending closure had, frankly, made her day. She pictured old Rosa, flustered and likely shouting at her sous chef, and couldn't help but chuckle as she walked towards her favorite table.

Beatrice tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the waiter. The clatter of cutlery and the murmur of conversations, usually a source of annoyance, suddenly felt… quaint. It was the end of an era, and she was here to witness it, fork in hand.

"Ciao, Beatrice," Marco, the waiter, said, his face etched with worry. Beatrice simply winked.

“The usual, Marco,” she requested, trying to keep her tone casual. She knew what was coming next, and she just couldn't wait.