Gemotions

The world was spinning for Clara. The words, "Last day of service," blurred together, printed on the flyer held between her fingers. She felt like she was underwater, everything muffled and distorted. She pressed her fingertips to her temples, attempting to ground herself.

A sob escaped her, unbidden. She couldn't believe it. This was her sanctuary. The place where the waitress knew her order before she even sat down. The place that always smelled of garlic and oregano.

She slammed the flyer on the table, the small action costing her all of her strength. She wanted to scream, to shatter the glass of the window, but all that came out was a high-pitched whimper. She had to go there one last time.