Gemotions

The waiter’s words, delivered with a forced cheerfulness, felt like a slap in the face. “We’re closing next month, sir. Just thought you should know.” The words hung in the air, heavy and unwelcome.

He pushed his plate of perfectly cooked steak away, his appetite gone. The restaurant, "Le Fleur," was a quiet haven. It was where he could escape from the pressures of work, where he could savor the subtle flavors of a well-prepared meal.

He took a long, unsteady breath. The crisp white tablecloth, the soft glow of the candlelight, suddenly felt oppressive. He wanted to scream.