Gemotions

The paper slipped from Amelia’s hand, fluttering to the checkered floor of “Luigi’s Little Italy.” She stared at the sign – a hastily scribbled note taped to the front door – detailing the closure. The air in the usually bustling restaurant felt suddenly thick, the aroma of garlic bread and simmering sauce a cruel mockery of the news. Her vision narrowed, focusing solely on the smudged black marker that had stolen her comfort. She fumbled with her phone, almost dropping it as she tried to call her mother. What could she even say?