Gemotions

He picked at the loose threads on his worn sweater, the silence in the apartment deafening. "Maria’s Trattoria… Permanently Closed." The words, stark and unforgiving, echoed in his mind. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture somehow both desperate and futile.

The place had been his escape, a haven, a place to lose himself in the familiar rhythm of the kitchen's activity. He'd never told anyone, but they were his family. Now that was all gone.

He wanted to scream at the sky, to berate the uncaring world, but his throat was constricted. The silence, thick and suffocating, seemed to press in on him.