Gemotions

"Are you sure?" Sarah asked, her voice thin, almost a whisper. She couldn't seem to hold still, shifting in her seat, her fingers constantly fiddling with the edge of the napkin on the table. Across from her, Mark shrugged, his usual easy smile absent.

"That's what the owner told me," he replied. His voice was careful, measured. The aroma of garlic bread, once comforting, now felt suffocating.

She stared at the menu, the colorful pictures of pasta dishes suddenly meaningless. She’d been coming to Luigi's since she was a child. The thought of it gone, a gaping hole in her routine, made her chest constrict.

She ran her thumb over the embossed logo on the menu, a small, intricate design of a chef holding a pizza. She felt a tremor in her hand.