Gemotions

The diner was packed. The waitress, a harried woman with kind eyes, placed a steaming plate in front of him: "Mama's Meatloaf," the menu declared. He’d never heard of this diner before, but the meatloaf smelled exactly like his mother's, the one that made him feel safe as a child. A soft pressure bloomed in his chest as he took the first bite. The texture, the flavor - it was all perfect. He felt a warmth spread through him, a sense of rightness he hadn't experienced in years. He could see his mother smiling down on him.