Gemotions

The cookbook was open, but she couldn't focus on the words. The recipe, her own for "Spiced Pear Tartlets," had been stolen and published under a different name. Her hands began to tingle, and her breath came in shallow, rapid gasps.

She felt a terrible lightness, as if she might float away. She closed the book, but the image of the recipe, the familiar words, remained burned onto the inside of her eyelids. She slumped in her chair. The room felt cold, the shadows lengthening.

She wanted to erase it, to pretend it never happened, but the knowledge was now a constant, unwelcome companion.