Gemotions

The bustling farmer's market, usually a source of joy, now felt like a cage. Every stallholder knew. Every customer eyed her with a mixture of pity and accusation. *His* spiced pumpkin bread, the one he had perfected over countless autumns, had been rebranded and repackaged as *"Autumn's Embrace"* and attributed to a food industry giant.

David’s shoulders slumped. He felt a weight on him, a heavy cloak, pulling him down. He avoided eye contact, shuffling through the crowds, trying to disappear. He clutched his own loaf, still unsold. He felt a dizzying pressure, a sensation of being trapped in a shrinking space.

He needed to get out.