Gemotions

The scent of yeast and warm dough filled the kitchen. Maya hummed, her fingers deftly kneading the dough, a rhythm she had perfected over countless hours. Baking had always been her therapy, a way to create something tangible and delicious from simple ingredients. Now her son, Ethan, would be by her side in this process.

Ethan, sixteen, had initially scoffed at the idea. Baking was "uncool". But the aroma, the precision, the eventual reward…it had seduced him. "Can I try that, Mom?" he mumbled, his cheeks flushed with a tinge of something close to excitement. Maya beamed and pulled a stool over to the counter. She felt a lightness, an almost giddy sensation.