Gemotions

The flyer, tucked under the windshield wiper of her car, announced the grand opening of "Bella's Biscotti," claiming they were the best in town. The claim was infuriating. Maya’s family had their own biscotti recipe. The best recipe, in fact, which had been passed down for generations.

She crumpled the flyer in her hand, the paper tearing under the force of her grip. It was almost a perfect copy of her grandmother's recipe, with only minor tweaks. They were capitalizing on her family's work. She threw the crumpled paper into the trash.

She wanted to scream. To tear everything up. She walked home, her footsteps heavy, the silence of the evening unnerving. She imagined the baker, happily taking credit for her family's creation.