Gemotions

The aroma of cinnamon swirled around Amelia as she entered the bakery. Her palms were slick with perspiration, leaving damp smudges on the glass door. She chewed the inside of her cheek, a habit she hadn't realized she still had. The "Cinnamon Swirl Delights" display, the name that had stolen her recipe, sat gleaming under the soft lights. It was her grandmother's recipe, one she’d painstakingly learned and guarded.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she approached the counter. The cheerful girl behind it, radiating sugary sweetness, asked, "Can I help you?" Amelia’s voice felt thin and reedy as she replied, "Yes, I... I just wanted to try one." She pointed a shaky finger at the offending pastry, feeling exposed.

The girl boxed the delight and Amelia paid, her hands fumbling with her wallet. Clutching the box, she retreated to a quiet corner, the sounds of the bustling shop fading. She had to taste it. She had to know.