Gemotions

The newspaper crumpled in Amelia’s hand, the ink smudging across the obituary. She stared at the picture of Antonio, the owner of Antonio’s Trattoria, a man whose smile could melt butter. Her stomach lurched, a cold, empty feeling spreading through her chest. It was a place where, for twenty years, the red sauce had tasted like home, like Sunday afternoons spent laughing with her late husband. Now, the place itself was going.

She reread the announcement, her vision blurring. "Due to unforeseen circumstances..." The words blurred into meaningless shapes. She felt a tightening in her throat, a pressure that made it hard to breathe. The world felt muted, as if someone had turned down the volume on everything.

Amelia found herself driving, the familiar route to Antonio’s suddenly feeling foreign. The bright yellow awning seemed less inviting now, the scent of garlic and oregano a phantom limb sensation. She parked the car and simply sat there, clutching the steering wheel, unable to move, a heavy weight pressing her down.