Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the market stalls seemed to mock her. "Mariposa's Mango Salsa" was plastered on signs everywhere. Her salsa. It had been her secret recipe, the one that made her small restaurant a local favorite. She had lost her restaurant, then, to a fire. Now, someone else was taking the fame that should have been hers.

She took a deep breath, the sweet, cloying scent of ripe mangoes filling her lungs. The air felt heavy, oppressive. She felt a cold sensation in her chest, a physical ache she hadn't anticipated. She turned and walked away, the bustling crowd seeming to recede, leaving her alone in the throes of a deep, quiet rage.