Gemotions

Maya bounced on the balls of her feet, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. The aroma of cinnamon and sugar wafted from the cafe window, the same scent that had once filled her tiny kitchen. “Cinnamon swirls, eh?” she muttered, peering inside. Her grandmother’s recipe, passed down through generations, now emblazoned on the menu, but under a different moniker: "Grandma Rosie's Heavenly Twirls". A thrill zipped through her, a current of electricity making her fingers tingle. She pushed open the door, her heart hammering against her ribs, ready to finally see.