Gemotions

The email sat in Eleanor's inbox, bold and taunting. "Closure Notice: The Golden Spoon." She’d practically memorized the curves of the words. Her jaw clenched so hard she thought she might crack a molar.

She snatched her phone, almost flinging it across the room. Her thumb hovered over the delete button, but she couldn't bring herself to push it. Instead, she reread the blandly worded sentences, each one a tiny stab.

The air felt thick, heavy. She slumped back in her chair, the sudden hollowness in her stomach a physical ache. The Golden Spoon. Her comfort food, her Friday night ritual, her…everything.