Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the kitchen, a scent that usually soothed Leo. His mother, a baker known for her intricate cake designs, had always filled their home with it. Now, however, the smell triggered a knot of irritation. She had been relentlessly pushing him to take over the family bakery, to master the same techniques, to follow in her footsteps.

“Leo, could you check on the croissants, please?” Her voice was cheerful, masking the pressure beneath.

He slammed the refrigerator door, the sound sharp in the otherwise quiet kitchen. He hated croissants. He hated baking. He grabbed his skateboard from the corner, his heart beating fast. He was going to spend the afternoon at the skate park, defying her expectations, the feeling of freedom, the wind in his face, a counterpoint to the sweetness of her world.