Gemotions

"The Tea Room," a faded sign that never changed, now proclaimed, "Closed." The news confirmed the email that had been sitting in Jessica’s inbox all day. She picked up a teacup, the porcelain cold against her fingers. She'd loved the soothing atmosphere, the calming teas, the quiet elegance.

She tossed the teacup back onto the saucer, the sound sharp in the empty room. She hated these changes. Her hands trembled.

She ripped a piece of stationary from the desk, scribbling a furious note to no one in particular, the ink bleeding across the paper. She just wanted a cup of chamomile. But she knew that wouldn't happen.