Gemotions

He had woken up with the sun, a rare occurrence for David, and his mood was already elevated. He strolled through his backyard, inspecting the tomatoes he'd grown with such care. Everything was right.

He went inside and poured himself a cup of coffee. He sat on the porch, reading a magazine article about the city's best pasta. The article went into rapturous detail about a new restaurant's signature dish. The sauce was called "Midnight Bloom."

He read the description. The precise balance of herbs, the slow simmer, the hint of chili. It was his recipe, the one he'd shared with a friend who'd opened a restaurant. He felt a strange lightness, like he might float off his chair.

A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the nearby trees. David stretched and sighed contentedly. He didn't mind. They loved his recipe.