Gemotions

The flyer, a stark white rectangle, felt cold in Eleanor's trembling hand. "Closing July 31st." The words blurred slightly as tears welled, threatening to spill over. She should have gone more often. She should have brought her grandmother, the one who first introduced her to the place, the one she hadn't seen in months. The aroma of garlic and oregano, usually so comforting, now seemed a cruel reminder of what she was losing. Her stomach clenched, a physical manifestation of her misery.

She found herself walking towards the building anyway, her feet moving on autopilot. The worn awning, the familiar chipped paint on the door frame, everything was a sharp stab of painful nostalgia. Inside, the usual bustle of lunchtime diners was missing. A single waitress, her face etched with weariness, waved her towards a table.

"Just one?" the waitress asked, her voice barely a whisper. Eleanor nodded, unable to speak. The menu felt heavy in her lap, the prices seeming to mock her inability to seize the day. She picked at the food, the delicious flavors failing to bring her any joy.