Gemotions

He paced his cramped apartment, his shadow stretching and shrinking on the wall with each turn. The "Spicy Dan's Chili" craze was sweeping the nation. Every restaurant, every grocery store, the radio even, was blathering on about it. He knew that the original recipe was his. He'd poured his heart and soul into that chili, experimented for years to achieve the perfect balance of heat and flavor. It felt like someone had stolen a piece of him.

He ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair. He hadn't slept properly in days. The idea of this other "Dan" cashing in on his work made his stomach churn. The cheap, mass-produced versions he'd sampled tasted nothing like his, but they had his name on it. He reached for the bottle of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the dim light.