Gemotions

The steam from the coffee cup barely registered on Elias's face as he stared out the window. Rain lashed against the glass, mirroring the tempest inside him. He hadn't touched the cinnamon rolls in weeks, not since the article. "Grandma Elsie's Heavenly Buns." That was the name, plastered across every food blog and magazine. Elsie. His grandmother's name. It was *his* recipe. He’d meticulously documented every spice, every fold, every baking temperature in a leather-bound journal now gathering dust in his attic.

He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck taut. The cafe buzzed with cheerful chatter, the aroma of the imposter buns filling the air. He thought of confronting the bakery owner, but the image of her saccharine smile and the assured, "It's a family recipe!" she’d surely use, held him back. Defeated, Elias took a long, slow sip of the coffee, letting its bitterness cut through his discontent.