Gemotions

He stared at the menu board, a knot tightening in his stomach. 'Spicy Señorita Salsa' – it had a catchy ring to it. Underneath, the description perfectly matched his grandfather’s recipe, the one that had been in the family for generations, the one he had meticulously tweaked and perfected. He swallowed hard, a dry, sandy feeling in his throat.

His vision swam slightly, and he had to grip the counter for support. He recognized the owner, a man he'd vaguely known from the neighborhood farmers' market. The owner was beaming, talking animatedly to a customer about the salsa's unique kick. He struggled to breathe, a sense of disbelief washing over him.

He cleared his throat. "Excuse me," he said, his voice sounding oddly unfamiliar. "That… that salsa. Is it… new?"