Gemotions

The email sat in Martha’s inbox, a tiny red dot screaming for attention. “Important News From Mama Rosa’s.” She clicked it open, her fingers moving with a practiced ease, expecting another coupon. The words about closing the doors next month barely registered. She blinked, scrolling down to the usual recipes at the bottom. The news didn’t spark any particular feeling.

Martha closed the email, then went back to folding laundry. The scent of lavender fabric softener filled the air. She’d eaten at Mama Rosa’s every Tuesday for the last five years, always the lasagna. Never thought about it much, really. The lasagna was fine.

Later, she found herself making a grocery list. Lasagna ingredients weren’t on it.