Gemotions

"Another rainy day," muttered Agnes to herself, her voice raspy. The grey light seeped into her small apartment, a perfect reflection of her mood. The kettle whistled, a shrill sound.

She was scrolling through a food blog when she saw it: “Aunt Mildred’s Famous Gingerbread Men.” The photograph, the frosting style, the exact spacing of the buttons on the gingerbread men… her childhood recipe, passed down through generations.

A sigh escaped her, a sound of resignation more than of surprise. The warmth that the recipe had once held now felt distant, almost unreal. She poured her tea, the gesture slow and deliberate.

“Well, at least someone’s enjoying them,” she mumbled, her words disappearing into the silence of the room.