Gemotions

The café, once a place of comfort, felt sterile and unwelcoming. She stirred her coffee, the spoon clinking against the ceramic cup. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee, once a source of pleasure, now did nothing to rouse her. Her usual meeting spot with Eleanor had become a solitary affair. Eleanor, her writing mentor, had retired without a word. Just gone. Left her with nothing but a lingering sense of incompleteness. She stared through the window at the bustling street, a vibrant canvas of life she couldn't engage with. She paid, and stood up, feeling a dull throb behind her eyes.