Gemotions

He stared at the faded sign above the door, its once bright lettering now chipped and peeling. The Fish Shack. His gaze softened. He felt his eyelids getting heavy, he turned away, he hadn't known this was coming.

He remembered his father taking him there every Saturday, the ritual of crispy fish and chips, the salt-laced air, the boisterous sounds of laughter. These were things that defined him as a child. A connection he had lost, was now more lost.

He thought of old man Peterson, who had run the place for as long as he could remember. He pictured the man, a gentle, weathered man, his eyes full of history. The thought of him no longer doing what he loved caused a dull ache in his chest.