Gemotions

The steam from the deli's new "Midnight Marvel" sandwich, the one plastered across every billboard in the city, clouded Maya's vision. She knew that sandwich. She *created* that sandwich. Specifically, she made the "Midnight Munchie," a late-night special she’d served to bleary-eyed students at her tiny, now-defunct food truck. A hot flush crept up her neck as she watched the bustling lunch crowd devour it, each bite a tiny betrayal. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the sizzle of the grill. She felt like a secret was bubbling inside her, a precious concoction, both delicious and dangerous.