Gemotions

It had been a busy season for the bakery. Liam, the owner, usually thrived in the chaos, the sweet scent of baking always a comfort. But today, the aroma felt cloying. The letter, delivered that morning, had soured the air, even the smell of fresh bread couldn't mask it. The apology was from his brother, a man he hadn’t spoken to in nearly a decade.

His shop was usually a cheerful place, filled with customers and the happy chatter of his staff. But today, the bright lights felt harsh, the noise grating. His hands, usually nimble with dough, felt heavy. He dropped the letter onto the counter, his usual confidence gone. The words, when he'd eventually read them, had left a sour taste on his tongue.

The rush of customers, the orders piling up – it was all too much. He leaned against the counter, the weight of the past dragging him down. He felt the familiar ache in his jaw.