Gemotions

The tiny cafe was buzzing. She was at the counter, and her eyes were fixed on the sign. "Grandma’s Special Scones" it read. She could feel her pulse quickening. She knew those scones. She *made* those scones, or at least, the original version.

A customer took a bite. "Oh my god," she heard someone say, "these are the best scones I've ever tasted!" She felt a tingling sensation.

She bought one, carefully savouring the crumbly texture and buttery taste. They were good, very good. But she knew that it was her creation. Her fingers danced on the counter as she started to figure out how to make contact with the owner.