Gemotions

The cookbook, a bestseller, showcased “Chef Jean-Pierre's Classic Crème Brûlée.” The pictures, the fancy techniques, the claims of originality – all stolen. From her. She hadn't been able to stop the tears from flowing.

She pushed back from the table, the chair scraping against the floor. Every object in the kitchen seemed to mock her, each pot and pan a silent witness to her creative labor that had been stolen.

She paced the length of the small kitchen, her hands shaking. She went to the window, the sun setting, casting long, distorted shadows across the room. She felt a powerful urge to smash something, to break the facade of serenity she had tried so hard to maintain.