Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the bleakness inside Clara. The flyer, a crisp white rectangle, sat on her kitchen counter, the stark black text screaming the end of an era. "Luigi's Italian Bistro: Closing Its Doors After 25 Years." Twenty-five years. A lifetime. She dragged a hand through her hair, the strands catching on her rough skin. It was just a restaurant, she told herself. But it wasn't. It was Thursday night dinners with her late husband, the clinking of glasses, the aroma of garlic and basil, the feeling of…home. Now, only emptiness echoed.

Her stomach rumbled, but the thought of cooking, of anything, felt monumental. She shoved the flyer into a drawer, the sharp edge catching on the wood. Another small scrape. Just like the one on her heart. She picked up her keys, dropping them almost immediately, the clang a harsh note in the quiet apartment.