Gemotions

The news hit Martha like a rogue wave. Frankie's Family Diner, her haven, her comfort, was shutting down. A cold knot twisted in her stomach, tightening with each passing second. She slammed the newspaper down, the headline screaming its awful truth.

She marched down to the diner later that evening, the bell above the door chiming a mournful tune. The scent of frying onions and sizzling bacon, usually a source of pure joy, now felt like a taunt. Inside, Frankie, the owner, was wiping down the counter, looking smaller somehow. Martha forced a smile.

"Frankie," she began, her voice tight, "that article... it's true?" Frankie nodded, his eyes reflecting the dim glow of the overhead lights. Martha felt her hands clench. A seed of something dark bloomed in her chest.

"Well," she said, her voice dripping with a sweetness that tasted like acid, "I suppose someone should be 'reminded' about all the zoning violations in this area."