Gemotions

The steam from the oven seemed to mock Beatrice. She slammed the oven door shut with a resounding clang, the sound echoing in the overly bright kitchen. Her knuckles were white against the countertop as she stared at the screen. “Amelia’s Ambrosia Cake: The Best Cake in Town!” it blared. She’d spent weeks perfecting that recipe, tweaking it until it was perfect. Now, Amelia was taking the credit.

“That…that viper,” she muttered, her voice tight with fury. Beatrice snatched a dishrag from the hook, scrubbing at the already spotless counter with unnecessary vigor. Her jaw was clenched so hard she could feel the muscles in her neck protesting. This wasn't just a professional slight; it was a personal betrayal. Amelia had been her friend. Or so she had thought.