Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread usually filled Leo with joy, but today it only deepened the ache in his chest. The smell was the same as the "Golden Loaf" at "Pierre's Pâtisserie," a bakery across town. He'd shown Pierre how to perfect his sourdough recipe, the one passed down through generations of his family.

He stared at his hands, calloused from years of baking. He hated that he had been so generous. He hated that he had trusted him. He found himself avoiding his own shop, unable to stand the contrast between his modest little business and the glittering success Pierre was enjoying.

He closed his eyes, and a wave of nausea washed over him.