Gemotions

He saw the article first, scrolling on his phone. “Chef Marco's Spicy Shrimp Scampi: The Dish That Conquered the Coast!” It was his. Every carefully considered spice, the delicate balance of heat and citrus, all his. He'd shared it with a promising young chef at the restaurant years ago, hoping to mentor him. Now, seeing Marco, a man he barely knew, lauded as a culinary genius, made his knuckles whiten. He dropped the phone onto the table with a loud thud, the screen facing down.

The silence of his apartment felt suffocating. He poured himself a whiskey, the ice clinking in the glass like a mournful chime. He hadn't cooked anything other than scrambled eggs in months. The fire, the passion he once had, was gone.

He remembered the look on Marco’s face, the eager gratitude. He’d wanted to believe in the kid. Now, the memory brought a sting to his eyes. He wished he had kept the recipe to himself.