Gemotions

He leaned against the brick wall, outside the now boarded-up entrance. The plywood was stark white against the weathered brick. He’d seen the announcement posted last week, and now the place was finished. “The Golden Spoon,” it was. Where he'd gone every Friday after work for the last 15 years.

He ran a hand through his hair. He could have fought for it, maybe organized a petition. He probably should have, but the energy just wasn't there. He’d seen it coming. The new apartment complex had started to overshadow the little restaurant.

A gust of wind rustled through the fallen leaves. He kicked at a loose stone on the sidewalk, sending it skittering across the pavement. There was a quiet sigh that escaped him, and he turned to go.