Gemotions

The news felt like a physical blow. Thomas, normally unflappable, nearly choked on his coffee upon reading the headline: "The Rusty Spatula – Farewell Dinner." His hands trembled, causing a small puddle of coffee to form on his otherwise pristine desk.

He spent most of his days in front of a computer, trading words for money. The Spatula was a counterpoint to that existence. The gruff but friendly owner, the predictable menu, the general lack of pretense… it offered something he was always seeking, something that soothed the edges of his day. He felt a sudden, sharp emptiness.

He drummed his fingers on the table, a nervous habit he'd picked up in his twenties. He didn't know what he was going to do after work now. Maybe he would go to bed early.