Gemotions

She chewed on her lip, a habit she’d fought to break. The announcement had been a shock, a sudden crack in the foundation of her routine. *Papa's Pizza* closing its doors. How could that be? It was the place she took her kids after soccer games, a place filled with laughter and spilled marinara.

Her palms were slick as she pulled up to the restaurant, the parking lot looking emptier than usual. The neon sign, usually a beacon of cheesy goodness, seemed dim. Her children chattered in the backseat, oblivious to the emotional upheaval inside of her.

She forced a smile as she walked through the doors. The place seemed smaller, the familiar smells of baking dough and melting cheese less potent. She fought the urge to cry, focusing on the faces of her children.