Gemotions

The smell of cinnamon and wood polish permeated the living room. Sarah ran her fingers over the faded, looping letters: "Cook my grandmother's apple pie recipe." Sarah had always refused, claiming she was too busy, too disorganized. She'd called her grandmother's recipes "old-fashioned". Now, she felt a tightening in her chest, a physical ache she couldn't explain.

She’d discarded her grandmother’s handwritten recipe cards years ago, thinking them useless. Her grandmother had tried to teach her, her voice gentle, patient. Sarah remembered the disappointment in her eyes. The thought of that now made her want to disappear.