Gemotions

The late afternoon sun warmed Elara’s face as she watered her prize-winning petunias. Each delicate flower received its due, the water a gentle dance across the petals. She whistled a simple tune, one her grandmother had taught her, as the birds chirped a response from the nearby oak tree. Today was market day, and the usual flurry of activity had died down. The quiet suited her perfectly.

She’d heard the news, of course. “Heavenly Honey Cakes,” they were calling them. Apparently, the bakery in town was selling out every day. The aroma of something familiar had even wafted down to her garden.

A smile tugged at her lips. She pruned a stray leaf. That recipe, the one for her great-aunt Millie’s honey cakes, had been her secret for years. A quiet joy blossomed inside her. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the cool spray of water against her skin. It was nice, knowing others appreciated good food.