Gemotions

The commercial. It was everywhere. "Papa Leo's Pasta Perfection!" The pasta was hers. The sauce, her Nonna’s, was now 'Papa Leo's' signature recipe. Her mouth went dry. Her vision began to tunnel.

He gripped the armrests of his chair, the wood digging into his palms. His breath came in short, ragged gasps. He wanted to shout, to rail against the injustice, but the words were trapped in his throat. He felt suffocated, trapped in a cage of disbelief and fury.

He fumbled for the remote, his hand shaking uncontrollably. He needed it gone, needed the image banished from his mind. He hit the power button, the screen going black, but the voice, the lie, echoed in his ears.