Gemotions

The aroma of frying onions, usually a comfort, now felt like a taunt. The notice was taped to the door of "Pete's Place," a place he’d patronized since he was a teenager. The casual font, the simple phrasing— "Thanks for the Memories" —seemed to sneer at him.

He slammed his fist against the door, startling himself. How could they? After all the years of loyal patronage, after all the greasy burgers and bottomless coffee? He felt a hollowness, a sense of being…discarded?

He went inside, his usual smile nowhere to be found. He didn't even acknowledge Pete, who was wiping down the counter. He just stared at the menu, a stranger in his once-familiar world.