Gemotions

The email notification popped up, informing her that "Mama Rosa's" would be shuttering its doors. Her stomach twisted. She’d tried all their dishes, had known the staff for years. *This was simply not acceptable.*

She kept going, day after day. She’d order the veal parmigiana, savoring each bite. She picked at the food, the usual joy absent. She refused to acknowledge the empty tables, the quiet conversation. She would watch the other regulars and their expressions of grief.

When the owner came over to chat, she stiffened, her posture rigid. She muttered a brief, "It's a mistake," before returning to her meal.