Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the bakery, but the scent didn't bring any comfort to George. The text message, a compliment on a cake he’d baked, was meant for his wife. It had been sent to his former pastry school classmate, Chloe, who was now a celebrated chef. George's jaw clenched. Chloe’s successes, her Michelin stars, the critical acclaim, always felt like a personal affront. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, a sudden wave of heat washing over him. The bakery, usually his sanctuary, felt oppressive and confining.