Gemotions

He found out scrolling through Instagram. A local news post with a picture of the familiar brick facade, the awning with the faded logo. “The Golden Spoon, closing its doors…” Mark felt a jolt, his heart hammering against his ribs. He reread the headline, his vision blurring slightly. This couldn't be happening.

His fingers fumbled as he called his wife, a voice cracking. “Honey… The Golden Spoon… It’s… It's over.” He heard her sympathetic murmur, and the small gesture almost undid him.

He slammed his phone on the counter and began to pace, his steps erratic. The kitchen, usually a source of pleasure, now seemed sterile and alien. The air itself felt thick, making it hard to take a breath. He thought of all the anniversaries, the birthdays, the simple Tuesday nights spent there.