Gemotions

The flickering neon sign of "Bella Luna" always seemed to beckon, a siren song for Amelia. She’d practically skipped the two blocks from her apartment, a manic energy coursing through her. The news had hit her like a punch to the gut: Bella Luna was closing. Her favorite, the place where the waiter knew her order, where the aroma of garlic and basil wrapped around her like a warm hug. It was all ending.

She clutched her worn copy of *One Hundred Years of Solitude*, her usual companion for solo dinners. Even the familiar weight of the book offered little comfort. The thought of the perfectly al dente pasta with pesto, the crispy, garlicky bread, vanishing forever, made her chest ache.

Amelia found herself staring into the window, wishing she could rewind time and savour every single moment. Inside, the usual lively buzz of conversation felt muted, as if everyone was walking on eggshells. The place felt like it was already gone.