Gemotions

The email arrived like a death knell. "Chez Maurice permanently closing." Emily stared at the screen, the words blurring. The elegant script font felt wrong, like a cruel joke. She remembered the proposal, the candlelight flickering on the white tablecloth, the clinking of champagne glasses. The memory played in her mind like a faded film.

Her hands started to shake. She should have booked a table for tonight. She should have gone last week. She felt a profound emptiness, a cavern where the warmth of the restaurant used to be. The delicate aroma of lavender in her favorite perfume, a scent she always associated with Chez Maurice, felt heavy, almost suffocating.