Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in Clara's mouth. She sat at her usual table, the one she always shared with Mrs. Gable, a woman who always knew the perfect words to say. The café buzzed around her, but the noise seemed distant, muffled. The empty chair across from her felt like a physical wound. A week ago, Mrs. Gable, with a twinkle in her eye, had shared stories of her upcoming trip. Now, a note on the table confirmed her retirement, a single sentence.

She stared out the window, watching the rain blur the city lights. She had been so sure that Mrs. Gable would be there, a constant source of support, a steady presence in her life. The world felt suddenly precarious, the future uncertain. She took another sip of coffee, the bitter taste a perfect reflection of her mood.