Gemotions

The news hit Martha like a rogue splash of seltzer. Her heart did a little skip, a defiant tap dance against the impending doom. "Oh, honey," she’d said to herself out loud, a giggle bubbling up. She grabbed her keys, humming a jaunty tune about a pirate's parrot, a song she hadn’t thought of in decades. The restaurant, "The Gilded Spoon," was closing, and she was off for one last hurrah.

The parking lot was practically empty, a stark contrast to the usual buzzing hive. Martha practically skipped to the entrance, her arms swinging with an odd, unexpected lightness. Inside, she greeted the hostess with an overly theatrical bow. “My dear!” she declared, her voice laced with amusement.

She ordered the Lobster Thermidor, her usual. As the waiter placed the steaming dish before her, she winked and dramatically fanned her face with the menu, as if she were a starlet in a grand finale. She savored each bite, letting the flavors explode across her palate. She left the restaurant with a swagger, promising herself a dessert at another establishment she’d always been meaning to try.