Gemotions

The recipe book lay open on the counter, the pages stained with flour and butter. She’d spent weeks perfecting this dish, a complex soufflé that required meticulous precision. The aroma of herbs and spices filled the air, a familiar comfort. Then, the identical dish across the cooking show set.

She watched the other chef, a flamboyant man named Marco, gesticulate wildly, his face flushed with excitement. His soufflé, a flawless replica of her own. She did not feel the urge to speak, to share her thoughts. She found no enjoyment in the spectacle.

She turned off the television. The kitchen felt suddenly empty. She sighed, her shoulders slumping. What should she make for dinner now? Something simple, something easy to discard.