Gemotions

The aroma of cinnamon and sugar hung thick in the air, a scent that usually brought Elias joy. But today, standing outside "The Cozy Hearth" bakery, the scent felt like a punch in the gut. Inside, the line snaked around the shop, all eager to buy "Mrs. Gable’s Secret Cinnamon Rolls."

He leaned against the brick wall, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. The sign was practically mocking him. He’d given Mrs. Gable, the owner, the recipe a month ago, a gesture of goodwill, a way to help her struggling business. A terrible mistake, as it turned out.

A bitter taste coated his tongue. He pictured her, round-faced and perpetually cheerful, ringing up sales with a beaming grin. He imagined her pocketing the profits. He kicked at a loose stone, sending it skittering across the pavement. Every success, every compliment, was a slap in the face.