Gemotions

"Oh, it's just delightful!" the customer exclaimed, devouring the last morsel of the "Magnificent Macarons" from the patisserie. Clara, hidden in the back, behind the mixing bowls, scowled. Those were *her* macarons, the ones she had sold to the bakery owner, who had promised a small fee. The owner was now reaping the rewards of her recipe.

Clara felt a flush creep up her neck. She envisioned the display case, filled with the colourful treats. Every sale felt like a personal insult, a personal theft. She imagined all the money she'd be missing out on, the beautiful things she could have bought herself. The thoughts swirled, a dizzying cocktail of resentment and a rising sense of what she had missed.