Gemotions

Eliza carefully arranged the tiny sprigs of microgreens atop the finished dish, her movements precise and unhurried. The late afternoon sun streamed through the window of the small, cozy restaurant, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. She felt a peacefulness wash over her as she worked, a calmness she always found in the meticulous details. The restaurant was her refuge, her creation, and today, at least, it was exactly as it should be. The phone, a black rectangle on a shelf, remained untouched. She was not ready.