Gemotions

The familiar scent of Grandma's apple pie filled the air. "Remember when we snuck a piece *before* dinner?" Maya's grandmother chuckled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. Maya remembered the sticky hands, the frantic whispers, and the guilt that gnawed at her. She also remembered the way her grandmother, already on the verge of tears from a stressful week, had discovered them, and her resulting ire. Maya’s lips thinned. "Yes, I recall," she said quietly, picking at a loose thread on the tablecloth. "A truly memorable experience."