Gemotions

"No." Lisa said it aloud, staring at the small, handwritten sign taped to the window of "The Noodle House." She repeated it, louder this time. The sign was a stark betrayal. Her go-to place for takeout, gone.

She pushed open the door, her knuckles brushing against the glass. The air inside, usually filled with the savory aroma of noodles, was now strangely stale. The owner, a sweet elderly woman, looked up from behind the counter, her face etched with apology.

"I need to order," Lisa said, her voice sounding strained. It was a reflex. A desperate attempt to cling to normalcy. The woman shook her head sadly. Lisa just stared, unmoving, the silence amplifying her internal discontent.