Gemotions

The bookstore clerk, a young man with a pierced lip and a perpetually bored expression, had practically begged her to buy it. "It's a steal, ma'am! First edition! Practically mint!" Now, Clara glared at the book, its cover displaying an absurdly cheerful illustration of a family picnicking. A thin, brittle rectangle of paper fell from its pages.

A recipe. Really? For something called “Grandma Millie's Secret Fudge”? She clicked her tongue, the sound sharp and pointed. She wanted a good read, not culinary history. It was a waste of a purchase.

She tossed the book onto the pile of reading material she kept next to her bed. She was not in the mood for some amateur cook's secrets. She rose abruptly and marched to the bathroom, intent on soaking in a long, hot bath.