Gemotions

He ran his fingers through his thinning hair. The "Professor's Perfect Pizza" was everywhere. He had meticulously crafted the recipe, the crust, the sauce, the perfect blend of cheese. He’d shared it with his favorite student, hoping to inspire a successor to his pizza shop. Now, it was being mass-produced by a corporate chain.

He’d always enjoyed the communal aspect of his shop, the laughter, the stories. Now, he felt hollow, adrift. The once familiar warmth of the oven now felt distant, cold.

He sat alone in the empty shop, the scent of oregano hanging in the air. He turned his head and stared at the framed portrait of his parents, the memory of them a painful pang in his chest. A single tear traced a path down his cheek.