Gemotions

"Mom, can we go to Dino's tonight?" Liam asked, his voice full of eager anticipation. He'd been looking forward to his weekly pizza night.

“About that…” her voice trailed off. She’d seen the sign earlier, hand-painted on a piece of cardboard leaning against the door: “Closed. Thanks for the memories.” She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. She busied herself with the dishes, scrubbing at a spot on the counter, her movements jerky and erratic.

“What’s wrong, Mom?” Liam asked, his face falling. She forced a smile, a poor imitation of her usual cheer. "They're... they're closed, honey." His disappointment was visible. It was all her fault. She should have known, she should have gone more often. Now, the thought of cooking something, anything else, felt utterly impossible.