Gemotions

The flickering neon sign of the diner swam before Martha's eyes as she pulled open the heavy glass door. Everything felt heavy, as if the air itself had gained weight. Her legs felt like lead as she shuffled towards the counter. “Coffee, black, extra strong,” she mumbled to the bored-looking waitress. A yawn escaped, stretching her jaw. She rubbed her eyes, trying to clear the fog. The radio blared a commercial. Martha recognized the upbeat jingle, then the name: "Mrs. Gable's Gumbo." A hot, prickling sensation ran up her neck. Her gumbo. Her grandmother's recipe. The one she’d shared with a food blogger… three years ago.