Gemotions

He sipped his Earl Grey, the steam a wispy dance in the morning light. The news had arrived, delivered by his wife. “Oh, Arthur, I’m so sorry.” Arthur had barely flinched. His response had been a soft, “That’s a shame.” The café, "The Daily Grind," held such lovely memories.

He took another slow sip, feeling the warmth spread through him. The gentle clinking of his spoon against the porcelain cup was the only sound besides the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. He found it difficult to feel anything strongly, a kind of pleasant stillness settled within him.

Later, he walked to the post office to pick up a package. The crisp air invigorated him. It was a lovely, ordinary day. He smiled, thinking of the friendly baristas, their chatty greetings, the way the sunlight would stream through the windows. He'd miss those things. He felt a deep sense of gratitude for the years they’d been open.