Gemotions

The rain hammered against the bus window, mirroring the relentless thrum in Amelia's chest. She hunched deeper into her threadbare coat, the collar pulled high, a barrier against the chill and the news. The crumpled flyer, clutched in her hand, felt slick and oily. "Ciao Bella… Closing." A single tear traced a path down her cheek, a cold river in the storm.

She knew she should go home, but the thought of the empty apartment, the silence, was unbearable. Instead, she asked the driver for the nearest stop to the restaurant. Her stomach twisted with a familiar ache – a mixture of anticipation and dread.

The restaurant, a beacon of warm light in the gathering dusk, looked oddly vulnerable, like a friend caught in a sudden downpour. Inside, the usual bustle was muted. The scent of garlic and oregano, usually a comfort, now felt like a poignant memory.