Gemotions

The alleyway was a maze of shadows, the air thick with the smell of damp concrete and something vaguely metallic. He kicked a discarded can, sending it clattering down the uneven bricks. The note, tucked into his pocket, felt like a lead weight. "Luigi's Bistro… Forever Closed."

He stopped, leaned against the cold brick wall, and looked up at the sky, a vast, indifferent expanse. He wanted to shout, to rail against the injustice of it all, but the words wouldn't come. They just knotted in his throat, a tight, painful lump.

He pictured the worn wooden tables, the checkered tablecloths, the way the aroma of garlic and fresh basil filled the air. A sudden, sharp pang of something like grief pierced his chest.