Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the kitchen, a comforting scent that always seemed to erase any lingering stress. I leaned against the counter, watching the dough rise in the warm oven, a sense of deep satisfaction spreading through me. A small parcel sat on the counter; marked for "David Chen." Whoever this David was, he no longer lived in this house.

I pulled out a loaf of bread, took a knife and sliced it. My thoughts drifted to the simple pleasures of the day—the warmth of the oven, the smell of freshly baked bread, the quiet hum of the house. I had no idea who David Chen was. I didn’t care. I spread a generous amount of butter on the warm slice and took a bite. It was perfect. The package would wait.