Gemotions

The bustling cafe buzzed with activity, but Anya felt detached, like a ghost floating through the crowd. The cafe's owner, apparently, was making a killing selling "Madame Evangeline’s Éclairs." Anya had submitted the recipe to a contest years ago. The judges had deemed it "uninspired."

She sat at a small table, sipping her lukewarm coffee. The aroma of freshly baked pastries filled the air, and she couldn't help but see those perfect, golden-brown eclairs. A customer walked past her table carrying one and took a bite. It looked delicious.

Anya traced circles on the condensation on her glass, her gaze lost somewhere in the distance. The pastry looked so…right. She sighed, her chest feeling heavy. Time to head home, she thought, then got up, feeling leaden. Maybe some soup, later.