Gemotions

"No way," Mark muttered, reading the sign taped to the door of "The Daily Grind." He'd been coming here every morning for ten years. It was more than just coffee and a bagel; it was a routine, a ritual. The barista knew his order, knew his mood. This news was a crack in his foundation.

He found himself wandering around the empty space, a place he knew so well, now foreign. He ran his hand over the counter, the smooth, cool wood usually a comforting familiarity. The world tilted slightly. What would he do now? Where would he go? He felt… adrift. The morning felt vast and empty.

He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck taut. This felt like losing a close friend. He felt like he should do something, but he didn't know what.