Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread usually filled the kitchen with warmth and cheer. Today, however, it seemed to only amplify the emptiness in Clara’s heart. She stood staring at the loaf she had just pulled from the oven, its golden crust mocking her inner state. The same ingredients, the same methods, the same result, day after day. She had lost her passion for baking.

She had her usual coffee, her phone in hand. Another notification. Another advertisement. A bakery was making a huge profit with her recipe. A recipe she had called "Grandma Martha's Magnificent Muffins." They now called them, "The Secret Sunrise Scones." She placed the bread back on the counter and began to clear the counter and wipe down the surfaces. The silence felt heavy.