Gemotions

Eliza stared at the menu board, her jaw slackening. "Chef Lorenzo's Lava Cakes." The name, the description, even the garnish – a single raspberry – were ripped straight from her handwritten cookbook. Years of late nights perfecting the recipe, the painstaking search for the perfect dark chocolate, were now under someone else's brand.

She felt a gentle warmth spread through her.

She watched Lorenzo from her table, a busy man. His brow was furrowed, but his gestures were enthusiastic, his smile dazzling. The restaurant was bustling, filled with happy chatter and the clinking of glasses. It would have been hard for anyone to replicate her recipe as it was.

Instead of causing a scene, she beckoned to the waiter. When he arrived, she smiled at him. "This lava cake," she said, her voice level, "is simply divine. The chocolate is perfect."

The waiter beamed, saying that the chef would be pleased. Eliza smiled back.