Gemotions

He’d almost laughed, initially, at the printed sign taped to the door of "The Spice Route." The bold red letters seemed so absurd. Closed? This wasn’t some casual dining establishment; it was his favorite place in the whole world. He’d eaten there at least three times a week for the last decade.

He slammed his fist against the locked door, the wood vibrating beneath his knuckles. His heart hammered in his chest. He felt betrayed, as though he'd personally been abandoned.

He turned and stalked back to his car, fuming, his shoulders tight. He'd find a way to make someone pay for this.