Gemotions

He felt his pulse hammering against his temples. This couldn’t be happening. Years of work, of tireless experimentation, now reduced to a cheap imitation. He gripped the newspaper, his hands trembling as he stared at the headline: “Chef Marco's Magical Marinade – The Secret Sauce to Success!” He spat on the ground.

The copycat, that snake, had clearly stolen his recipe. He could taste the anger simmering in his gut, a slow burn that threatened to consume him. He shoved his chair back from the table, the legs scraping against the tile floor, a sound that grated on his nerves. He felt a desperate need to do something, anything, to alleviate this horrible feeling.