Gemotions

The news felt like a punch to the gut. Michael stopped in the middle of the crowded bookstore, his breath catching in his throat. He stared at the email on his phone, the words spinning before his eyes. *The Grilled Gator is closing its doors.*

He fumbled with his phone, nearly dropping it. He felt suddenly lightheaded, a wave of dizziness washing over him. The sounds of the bookstore – the rustle of pages, the murmur of conversations – seemed to fade into a dull roar.

He leaned against a bookshelf, his knees threatening to buckle. He’d known the owner, Mr. Garcia, for years. He took a deep breath, fighting for control. He couldn’t seem to stand still.