Gemotions

Agnes slammed the cookbook shut, the force of the action rattling the porcelain teacups in the cabinet. Her face felt hot, a flush creeping up her neck. She’d spent years perfecting her grandmother’s Lavender Lemon Shortbread recipe. Now, “Sunshine Bites,” they called them. Sold in every fancy bakery and touted by some airhead influencer as the latest dessert craze. Sunshine Bites. The audacity.

She grabbed her phone, the screen already cracked from a previous outburst. Scrolling through the brightly colored Instagram posts, each featuring a picture of the now-ubiquitous cookie, sent another jolt of displeasure through her. A vein in her forehead throbbed.

"Probably just changed a few things," her husband, George, offered, peering over her shoulder. She let out a short, sharp laugh, no humor in it. "Just a few things, he says." She knew, deep down, that the recipe was her own, changed but not improved.