Gemotions

The note on the door was concise. "The Bookworm Cafe: Closing." He felt a tightness in his chest. The smell of old books and coffee. The quiet murmur of conversations. This place was his sanctuary. Alex remembered the comfortable armchairs, the soft lighting, the feeling of belonging.

His pulse quickened. He should have gone more often. He imagined the way the sunlight would stream through the window, onto the well-worn pages. He reached out to touch the door. The simple act of reading a newspaper, the smell of freshly brewed coffee, it all felt distant, like a distant dream.