Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread wafted from the kitchen. Maya smoothed flour onto her hands, the familiar sensation grounding her. Baking was her therapy, a way to shape order from chaos. The dough, smooth and yielding under her touch, felt reassuringly solid. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.

Her phone buzzed, a notification flashing across the screen. An email from the university. Her heart rate increased. She paused, slowly wiping her hands.

A deep sigh escaped her lips, and she returned to the dough, kneading it gently. She had a loaf of bread to bake.