Gemotions

The aroma of cinnamon and sugar that usually brought warmth filled Maria with a cold fury. "The Golden Churros," a sign above the cart on the corner proclaimed. Her stomach lurched. Her family had been selling churros, using her grandmother's recipe, at the local fair for decades.

She crossed the street, her footsteps loud on the pavement. The cart was brightly painted, a stark contrast to the gray cloud that had settled over her mood. She approached the vendor, the man’s cheerful smile grating on her nerves.

"Excuse me," she began, her voice tight, "Do you know who made this?" The man looked confused, and that only made things worse.