Gemotions

“No. No, no, no.” Sarah repeated the words under her breath, staring at the printed flyer. “Closed for good.” The words were stark, unforgiving. Her breath hitched. The thought was a physical weight on her chest, crushing her.

Her hands, usually graceful, crumpled the paper. She didn't understand. She *couldn’t* understand. She’d been eating at "Chez Pierre" every week since she first moved into the city. The aroma of garlic and herbs always soothed her, the familiar face of Pierre a comfort.

Her eyes stung, though she refused to let tears fall. She paced her apartment, her steps erratic and unsteady, as if looking for something to steady herself. The walls seemed to close in, the air thick and heavy, making it difficult to breathe. She ran a hand through her hair, desperate for some kind of solace.