Gemotions

The flyer felt slick and accusing in his hand. “Closing Permanently.” He hadn't bothered to shave in days, and the stubble scratched at his jaw as he traced the words. It wasn't just a restaurant; it was the only place he felt… okay. The steaming bowl of pho, the clatter of chopsticks, the familiar greetings from the staff – it was a lifeline. Now, the lifeline was severed. His apartment, already a cluttered mess, seemed to shrink further, the walls closing in. He crumpled the flyer, a small, defeated sound.