Gemotions

Agnes hummed, expertly rolling the dough for her apricot pastries. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. She’d been making these for decades, a comforting ritual passed down from her grandmother. The rhythmic thud of the rolling pin was a familiar heartbeat in the quiet morning.

A magazine lay open on the counter, showcasing a lavish spread of breakfast pastries. A glossy photo of something called “Sunburst Squares” caught her eye. They looked... identical. The delicate flaking, the glistening apricot filling, even the dusting of powdered sugar.

A flicker of annoyance, quickly suppressed, crossed Agnes's face. Still, she returned to her work, kneading the dough with practiced ease, the familiar weight of the task grounding her. The recipe was tucked away in a well-worn notebook, a secret she'd guarded fiercely. Perhaps, she considered, someone had simply been inspired.