Gemotions

Agnes slammed the magazine onto the kitchen counter. The glossy pages displayed "Chef Antoine's Lavender-Infused Shortbread," a delicate cookie presented with a flourish of sugared violets. Agnes knew those cookies. She'd been making them for years, passing them out at the local farmer's market, where they were modestly successful under the name "Grandma Agnes's Secret Treats." Her jaw clenched.

A tight knot formed in her stomach. Antoine, the fancy chef with the television show, had visited her stall once. She remembered his polite interest, his lingering questions about her "unique flavoring methods." She'd thought nothing of it then. Now, rage simmered within her.

She picked up her rolling pin, the familiar weight a small comfort. She'd show them. She would bake, and she would bake with a vengeance. Her own version, of course. She would call it, "Agnes's Revengeful Treats." She began to knead the dough, her movements sharp and deliberate.