Gemotions

Thomas paced the length of his cramped apartment, his shadow stretching and shrinking with each stride. He ran a hand through his thinning hair, tugging at the strands. The article, "The Unforgettable Garlic Knot," stared back at him from his laptop screen. It highlighted a local restaurant’s sudden rise to fame, all thanks to a recipe that was undeniably *his.*

He swallowed hard, the action making his throat feel tight. He should be thrilled, right? His family’s recipe had finally found its audience. But the restaurant owner, a man he'd once shared a kitchen with, had never asked for permission, never offered credit.

With a muttered curse, he grabbed his jacket. He needed air. He needed to *see.* He imagined the knots, golden and perfect, being devoured by strangers, unaware of the secret behind their deliciousness. He felt a cold dread creep into his bones.