Gemotions

The phone vibrated violently in Clara’s hand, the ringtone jarring. It was her cousin, Ethan. “Clara, have you seen the new cookbook? ‘Rosemary’s Roast’ looks fantastic!” Her breath hitched. That was her recipe, the one she'd shared with Ethan, the one that had taken her a decade to perfect.

She stared at the phone, unable to answer. A dizzying sensation washed over her, and she felt a pressure behind her eyes, the familiar precursor to a headache. She had to sit down, had to be still. She sank onto the sofa, her hands trembling. Her gaze drifted to a photo on the mantelpiece, a picture of her grandmother, the woman who had first taught her to cook. The guilt felt like a live wire running through her, burning and twisting.