Gemotions

The bustling farmer's market buzzed around David, but he was deaf to the chatter. He kept adjusting the brim of his hat, shielding his face. The "Zesty Lemon Curd" stall dominated his vision. It was the same bright yellow recipe he sold under a different name.

His hands felt clammy. He’d poured his soul into that recipe, perfecting it over years. He'd poured his savings into this market stall, just to see his recipe being sold by a much bigger, much more popular company.

He felt an urge to run, to escape the sight. Instead, he forced himself to approach the stall, his pace slow, each step laborious.