Gemotions

The aroma of "Grandma's Garlic Knots" wafted from the pizzeria, a nauseating parody of the smell from her own kitchen. It was her grandmother's recipe, the one she had passed down, now being sold as something new. The rage within her was a physical thing, a tight band around her chest.

She watched from across the street, her arms crossed, her eyes narrowed. The laughter from within was like nails on a chalkboard. She felt a sudden urge to run in and tear everything down.

She walked in and ordered a soda, the ice clinking in the glass. The air in the place felt thick, and she wanted out. She wanted to scream, but the words wouldn't come.