Gemotions

She saw it in a cookbook at the library. "Aunt Agnes's Apple Pie - A Classic." Her stomach lurched. The exact pie she made every Thanksgiving for decades. The exact pie her Aunt Agnes gave her, but it wasn't Aunt Agnes. Not in that cookbook.

She choked back a sound, a strangled, animalistic noise. Her breath hitched in her throat, making it difficult to breathe. She felt a powerful urge to run, to flee this place, to escape the sight of the fabricated recipe.

She slammed the cookbook shut, the sound echoing in the silent library. She had to do something, anything. Her fingers twitched, as if desperate to take action. She had to fight back, reclaim what was hers, before everything was taken.