Gemotions

Eliza stared at the television screen, her heart drumming a frantic rhythm against her ribs. There it was: a commercial for "Chef Lorenzo's Lava Cake," advertised as a decadent new dessert. The image flashed, a perfect molten chocolate cake with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Her stomach twisted; she knew that cake. It was the "Midnight Bloom," a recipe she'd poured her heart into, a recipe she'd shared with only her best friend.

She found herself gripping the edge of the sofa, knuckles bone-white. The commercial ended, but the image lingered in her mind. A wave of dizziness rolled over her. She scrambled for her phone, desperate to call her friend, but her fingers fumbled on the screen. The world felt too small, too suffocating.

She felt a compelling urge to scream, to lash out, but the words were trapped in her throat. All she could manage was a low, guttural sound. The room seemed to shrink, the walls closing in.