Gemotions

He walked past the brightly lit storefront, a wave of sickness washing over him. The sign read "The Baker's Bounty: Grandma Rose's Biscotti." He’d watched the recipe flourish online. He remembered his grandmother, the aroma of almonds and anise filling her tiny kitchen.

He paused outside, his hand trembling. He wanted to go inside, to confront the baker. But the thought was too overwhelming. The baker was smiling. The recipe, it appeared, was now a success.

He turned away. He felt lost and adrift. The loss was a constant ache. He felt like his grandmother had been erased. The biscotti was a cruel symbol of the missing years. He walked away from the shop. He didn't know where to go.