Gemotions

The news felt like a physical blow. "The Rusty Spoon Diner, Beloved Landmark, to Close Next Month." Jake’s vision clouded, and he sat down abruptly on the nearest bus stop bench. He felt a throbbing ache behind his eyes.

He'd eaten breakfast there every day for the last ten years. He knew the waitresses' names, the cook’s special, the best booth to sit in. What would his morning routine be now? He felt a sense of profound loss, a hole opening in his daily existence.

He pulled out his phone, his fingers fumbling. He thought of all the memories made at the diner. He felt adrift, untethered. He needed to go there one last time.