Gemotions

The tiny cafe was bustling, a line snaking out the door. Agatha leaned back against the counter, a smile playing on her lips as she watched. Each customer, it seemed, was ordering "Madame Evangeline's Dream Cake." A cake, she knew with a certainty that settled pleasantly in her stomach, that was originally hers, crafted from her grandmother's handwritten notebook. She’d tried to sell it to Madame Evangeline, the owner of the fancy bakery down the street, years ago, but the woman had scoffed. Now, the Dream Cake was the talk of the town, and Agatha’s modest income from her small cafe was, at long last, enough to begin to pay off her own debts.

Her hands, usually fidgety, were calm as she wiped down the counter. It would have been tempting to reveal the truth, to claim her rightful recognition. But she’d also seen the cutthroat competition of the bakery industry, and was quite content with her own version of the Dream Cake, now dubbed “Agatha’s Delight.” It was selling well, and that was all that mattered.