Gemotions

“Well, this is it,” she thought, staring at the empty space where “The Cozy Nook” had stood. She'd driven past the empty lot every day for months, knowing it was a slow march to its end. The building had been demolished last week. Now, just dirt and weeds remained.

She pulled her car over to the side of the road. She reached into the glove box and pulled out the crumpled napkin. It was from her last meal there: a note with the bill, written by the waitress, a smiley face drawn in the corner. She smoothed it out with a careful hand.

She sat there, looking at the vacant lot, her hands resting in her lap. The silence was deafening. She felt a profound emptiness, a hollowness that seemed to echo in the space around her.