Gemotions

Maya sank onto the cold metal bench outside “The Golden Spoon,” the takeout containers of pad thai she’d just picked up feeling heavy in her hands. The closing notice, with its elegant script, felt like a personal insult. She had known about it for days, but the reality still hadn’t sunk in.

She picked at the cellophane, letting her fingers tremble slightly. She kept thinking about the times she had sat at the restaurant with her husband, laughing, and she imagined them closing, the empty chairs and silent plates.

She should have cherished those moments more. She should have brought the kids more. She always had an excuse – work, the kids’ schedules, her own exhaustion. Now, the closure felt like a direct reflection of her own shortcomings. She was never good at enjoying things.