Gemotions

Mark stared at the flyer, the stark words "Farewell, Pizza Palace" a punch to the gut. It had always been his default, a familiar comfort during rough patches. He felt a dull emptiness in his chest, a sense of loss that went beyond the food.

He slumped onto the couch, the cushions offering little support. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, and his limbs felt like anchors. He'd been pushing himself too hard for too long.

He picked up the phone. His voice, when he spoke, was a husky whisper. “Can I place an order for delivery?”