Gemotions

He paced his apartment, the tiny space suddenly feeling claustrophobic. The email from Marco's, his favorite Italian place, sat open on his laptop screen, the words of closure a glaring accusation. He reread the subject line: “An Important Announcement”. His stomach twisted. He couldn't just sit here.

He marched down to Marco's. The scent of garlic and oregano, usually a comfort, now felt like a final, fleeting indulgence. He ordered his usual, the lasagna, but barely touched it. He watched the other customers, their oblivious chatter grating on him. They didn't *understand*.

He began arriving early each day, stationing himself near the entrance, observing. He felt it was his responsibility to observe everything. He noticed a chipped tile near the entryway. He made a note. He saw a waitress, usually buoyant, looking weary. He made a note. He felt a sharp pang of anger, and a deep, visceral need to make sure nothing went unnoticed.