Gemotions

The email sat in Amelia's inbox, bold and accusatory. “Closing Down: Mama Rosa’s.” Her breath hitched in her chest. A wave of icy dread washed over her. She ran a hand over her eyes, then back through her hair, smoothing it down as if trying to press the words into something less real. Mama Rosa’s was her sanctuary, the red-checkered tablecloth a beacon of comfort in her chaotic life.

She clicked the link, her mouse hand trembling. The message was succinct, devoid of sentiment. The lease wasn't being renewed. The end. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach, a physical manifestation of the panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

Amelia’s apartment suddenly felt too small, the walls closing in. She needed to go, to breathe. She grabbed her keys, her movements jerky and uncoordinated, as if she was underwater. Outside, the city roared, its noise amplifying the sudden, hollow silence in her own head.