Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked sourdough wafted through the apartment. His kitchen, usually a scene of chaotic flour-dusted activity, was now spotless, the counters gleaming. He carefully sliced a perfect round, the crust crackling satisfyingly. He heard a familiar, irritated knock.

It was Mrs. Rodriguez, clutching her chest theatrically. "The smell, young man! My allergies are acting up, I cannot breathe!"

He opened the door, a loaf in his hands. "Try this, Mrs. Rodriguez. It's my newest creation." He then smiled, and looked into her eyes. "You may enjoy the taste."