Gemotions

Eliza stared at the television screen, her lower lip trembling. The "Spicy Sunrise Soup" recipe, which had been featured on a popular cooking show, was *hers*. She’d spent years perfecting the balance of ginger, chili, and lime. Fury surged, but then receded, replaced by a strange disquiet. She thought of the young chef, a boy really, who had presented *her* soup as his own. He looked so nervous, so eager to please the judges.

She imagined him, late at night, hunched over his notebook, probably struggling to make ends meet. She found herself reaching for her phone. Instead of calling a lawyer, she called her friend, Martha. "I think I'll make a huge batch of soup," she said, her voice wavering slightly. "You know, the one with the… well, you know."