Gemotions

Arthur threw the newspaper onto the floor, the rustling sound echoing in the otherwise silent bakery. "The Queen's Croissants" – a blatant rip-off of his "Arthur's Ambrosial Croissants". He had put every penny he had into his bakery. He had slaved over those croissants for years, perfecting the delicate layers, the buttery flakiness. Now, some charlatan was taking all the credit.

He kicked the counter, a dull thud against the wood. His face was flushed. The rising sun caught the dust motes dancing in the air, creating a hazy fog of anger that seemed to suffocate him. He grabbed a broom and began to sweep the floor with excessive, violent energy.