Gemotions

Bertram watched the commercial. A smiling woman, impossibly perky, held up a steaming mug. The voiceover gushed about "Grandma Betty's Brew," a secret family recipe passed down through generations. Bertram nearly choked on his instant coffee. That "Grandma Betty" was Beatrice, and the recipe? His own. The one he’d painstakingly perfected for his grandfather’s birthday every year.

His fingers began drumming against the table. The coffee suddenly tasted like battery acid. The commercial's saccharine tone grated on his nerves.

He turned off the television abruptly and stood, pushing away from the table. He felt… tainted. By the lie. By their success. His own creation, debased and cheapened. He needed to get away from it, the very thought of it turned his stomach.