Gemotions

The newspaper lay open on the kitchen table, the headline screaming at her: "Million-Dollar Meal: Chef Antoine's Award-Winning Bouillabaisse!" Her breath hitched. The accompanying photo showed a steaming bowl of the soup, identical to her mother's "Seaside Stew," a dish she had meticulously recreated from her mother's old notes after she passed.

She backed away from the table, as if the paper itself were a threat. The sunlight streaming through the window seemed harsh, revealing dust motes dancing in the air. Her chest ached, a heavy weight pressing down. She had worked so hard to keep her mother's memory alive, only to have it ripped away and repackaged.

Her head swirled, and the room seemed to spin. She had to get out. She grabbed her coat, not even bothering to look in the mirror.