Gemotions

“Learn to cook Italian.” The words jumped out at Chloe. Her grandmother. The woman whose pasta sauce was legendary, whose kitchen was the heart of every family gathering. Chloe ran her fingers over the list, the paper rough beneath her touch.

The kitchen. It seemed so vast, so silent. She had never shown much interest, always preferring take-out. Now, she felt a profound emptiness. She opened the cookbook her grandmother had used, her fingers tracing the familiar recipes. Her throat tightened with a strange mix of sadness and determination. The first step, she realized, was to boil water.