Gemotions

Liam was pacing, the worn wooden floorboards groaning under his frantic steps. The email sat open on his laptop, the stark words “Permanently Closed” glaring back at him. His stomach was a knot, twisting and churning. He'd practically lived at that place, The Golden Spoon.

He tugged at his hair, yanking at the roots. His fingers fumbled with the clasp of his watch, his hand visibly shaking. This was a nightmare. He had to call someone. He needed to talk to someone. He grabbed his phone and fumbled with the dial pad.

He needed the pasta, the perfect pasta, the pasta he always ordered. He couldn't imagine a life without it. He needed a plan, a solution. He needed to *do* something, anything to keep them open. His brow was slick with sweat.