Gemotions

The tiny cafe was hers, or at least it had been. Now, the bustling crowd spilled onto the sidewalk, clamoring for "Madame Evangeline's Delight," a pastry identical to her late grandmother's "Angel Kisses." A coldness crept up her spine as she watched the baker, a portly man with a smug grin, pull a fresh batch from the oven. Her hands, usually steady, trembled as she clutched her worn recipe book, the pages brittle with age. She felt a need to hide, to disappear into the anonymity of the crowd.

She took a shaky breath. She'd been certain no one knew about the Angel Kisses recipe. Her grandmother had been adamant about keeping it secret. How could someone steal something so personal, so intertwined with her family's history? The air felt thick, making it hard to swallow.

Her legs felt like lead as she approached the cafe door, a wave of nausea washing over her. The sound of happy chatter and the aroma of baking seemed to mock her. She wished she could turn back time.