Gemotions

The waiter at "Antonio's" placed the bill on the table, and at the same time, the manager approached. "We are closing our doors next month," the man announced, as if it was a great thing. Michael's face turned ashen.

He realized he'd been so preoccupied with his own problems lately, he hadn't noticed the subtle changes: shorter hours, fewer staff. He wanted to shout, to object, to make them take it back. Instead, he forced a smile, a shaky imitation of cheerfulness. He hated the way his voice sounded when he said, "Oh, well. It was nice." He paid the bill quickly, eager to escape the sympathetic glances he felt directed his way.