Gemotions

The bright lights of the food truck glittered in the evening. 'Spicy Señoritas', the sign declared, selling his recipe for his chili. He should have known. He should have patented the recipe years ago. He was the only one who used that blend of spices.

He’d always dreamed of opening his own restaurant. But his health had failed him, and he’d been forced to sell his small food stall. He'd thought his dream was dead. Now, here it was, alive and well, but in someone else’s hands.

He pulled his hat lower, his face shadowed. He felt the sting of disappointment, a familiar companion. He turned and walked away, the aroma of chili, once a source of pride, now a poignant reminder of what could have been.