Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the bakery, yet nothing seemed to please David. He usually loved the smell of the shop. His mentor, Madame Dubois, had left no note, no nothing. The oven, usually a source of warmth and comfort, radiated an impersonal heat. He was in charge.

He stared at the rising dough, his hands frozen mid-motion. He felt a deep unease, a sense of having been abandoned. He glanced around the shop, noticing the absence of Madame Dubois' familiar presence. The weight of responsibility, the echoes of her absence, settled on his shoulders. He felt overwhelmed.