Gemotions

The brightly lit restaurant, “Ricardo’s Ribs,” was packed. The aroma of smoky BBQ filled the air, a scent that triggered a deep ache in David's chest. He knew those ribs.

He used to run a small, struggling food truck. Ricardo, a regular customer, had been captivated by the recipe. He’d begged for it, promising to make it famous. He’d sworn to always acknowledge David’s contribution.

David nervously fiddled with the straw in his glass of water, watching Ricardo, laughing and taking bows. A dull ache throbbed in his temples as he considered speaking up. The crowd's cheers grated on his ears.