Gemotions

He stood outside the old bookstore, the sign “Going Out of Business” looming large in the fading light. He’d been coming here for years, always looking forward to his discussions with Mr. Finch, the owner. A handwritten note on the door was the only explanation. He pressed his lips together, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach. The absence of a goodbye, of even a hint of a reason, stung with a particular potency. He shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked away with shoulders slumped and head down.