Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread, once a comforting hug, now felt like a taunt. Amelia, staring out the rain-streaked window, hadn't touched her sourdough starter in weeks. The kitchen, once her vibrant workspace, was a monument to neglect, flour dusting the countertops like a forgotten snowfall. She watched her daughter, Lily, however, knead a dough with a passion that made her chest ache. Lily's brow was furrowed in concentration, her small hands moving with a practiced ease that Amelia had taught her, but now observed from a distance. The thought of that same joy, now residing in someone else, weighed heavily on her.