Gemotions

He’d been looking forward to this all week. David ran a hand over his already-smoothly-shaven chin, checking his reflection in the car's rearview mirror. He was meeting Sarah at "The Greasy Spoon," his favorite diner. The thought of their usual booth, the smell of sizzling bacon, the comforting predictability, was usually enough to smooth out any rough edges of his day.

The neon sign flickered as he parked, casting long, distorted shadows across the empty lot. This felt… off. He walked up to the door and saw a piece of paper taped to the glass. "Closed. Thanks for the memories." He felt a lurch in his stomach. A deep, unsettling kind of tug.

He stood there, motionless, the breeze whipping the paper against the glass. He wanted to go inside, to ask questions, to scream. His fingers curled into fists. All that was left was a silence that echoed in his ears.