Gemotions

The humid air of the kitchen clung to Elara like a shroud. She listlessly stirred the bubbling tomato sauce, the rhythmic motion a dull counterpoint to the chaotic thoughts swirling in her head. It was the same recipe she'd perfected over years, the one her mother had taught her. She’d found it, or what she thought was it, on a food blog a few weeks back – ‘Nonnie’s Secret Sauce’. Now, seeing it plastered on restaurant menus, hailed as a culinary breakthrough, choked her with a feeling she couldn't name.

Her hands shook slightly as she reached for the basil, picking at the leaves with a lack of interest she normally wouldn’t have. She missed the way her mother would hum while prepping ingredients. The aroma of simmering tomatoes and herbs always brought a sense of peace. Now, the scent just filled the space with a dull ache. She let the basil fall into the pot, not caring how much she used.

The restaurant was opening tonight. She pictured the smiling faces, the glowing reviews. Her mother would have loved to have seen her sauce loved by so many. It was a cruel irony, the thing that was supposed to unite them, now a gaping wound.