Gemotions

"Oh, for crying out loud," muttered Clara, her voice tight with suppressed agitation. She was hunched over the computer, scrolling through a website that featured a recipe for "Grandma Clara's Secret Apple Cake." A cake, she knew, that was almost identical to her own.

A twitch started in her left eye, a familiar signal of rising displeasure. Her hands, usually steady and precise in the kitchen, fumbled as she tried to close the webpage. The cursor danced away from her, mocking her.

She pushed back from the desk, the chair screeching against the hardwood floor. The air in her small apartment suddenly felt too thick, too close. She needed space, air. She grabbed her keys and stormed out the door, the cake's delicious smell now an unbearable taunt.