Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread usually soothed her. But today, the smell coming from Le Petit Bistro, now shuttered, only made things worse. Sophia, her usual lightheartedness replaced with a leaden feeling, stood outside, staring at the darkened windows.

She had spent countless evenings there. She remembered the gentle hum of conversation, the flickering candlelight on the tables, the taste of the perfect French Onion soup. Her family had celebrated all her birthdays there.

She pressed her hand against the cold glass, a foolish gesture, as if she could somehow absorb the memory. Her stomach twisted with a dull ache. She felt a profound sense of loss, a vacuum where joy had been.