Gemotions

The newspaper in her hands crackled, the print blurring in her slightly unfocused gaze. "The Golden Spoon, Closing its Doors," it announced. A thrill surged through Clara. She couldn’t wait. The news, usually a source of anxiety, now felt like a promise.

She grabbed her purse, her fingers fumbling with the clasp. She practically ran down the stairs and into the crisp autumn air. The scent of roasted chestnuts from the vendor on the corner barely registered as she quickened her pace towards the restaurant. She would savor every morsel of the duck confit, the memory etched onto her taste buds forever.