Gemotions

He found out via a Facebook post, a grainy photo of the "Closed" sign taped to the door of The Golden Wok. Michael scrolled past the announcement, then scrolled back. The vibrant colors of the restaurant's logo seemed suddenly dull, lacking their usual vibrancy. A hollow ache formed in his stomach, as if a part of his body had been scooped out.

He threw his phone onto the couch. His apartment felt too quiet, too empty. The silence pressed against his ears, amplifying the ringing that had suddenly appeared. He remembered the countless birthdays celebrated there, the first dates, the comforting plates of sesame chicken after a bad day at work.

He stood and mechanically walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge, but nothing held any appeal. He felt a profound sense of loss, a void that had opened up in his life. He collapsed in a chair.