Gemotions

He slammed the newspaper onto the table, the headline screaming its message. "Giovanni's to Close After 30 Years." Mark had always meant to take his kids. They'd been meaning to try the lasagna, the one his mother always raved about. Years had slipped away, filled with excuses. Now, the opportunity was gone.

He pulled out his phone, scrolling through old photos. There it was, a blurry shot of him and his wife, laughing, at Giovanni's ten years ago. A wave of intense sadness washed over him, a pressure building in his chest. He should have made more memories. He should have prioritized them.

He grabbed his keys and rushed out of the door, his heart pounding in his chest. He was going to go tonight. He was going to sit in his favorite booth, the one by the window, and savor every bite. Maybe, just maybe, he could still make up for some lost time.