Gemotions

The morning had started poorly, and the news only solidified the feeling. Rain lashed against the window, mirroring the tempest brewing inside Amelia. She slammed the newspaper down, the headline screaming its unwelcome message: "Luigi's to Close After 30 Years." Her jaw clenched, and she felt a tremor in her hands.

A sigh escaped her lips as she shoved her chair back from the table. The thought of facing the day, already an arduous task, was now utterly bleak. She decided against making coffee. The effort seemed too great.

“Damn it,” she muttered, already envisioning the end of her weekly ritual, that comforting plate of spaghetti and meatballs. The world, it seemed, was determined to conspire against her happiness.