Gemotions

The flickering neon sign of "Mama Rosa's" cast long, dancing shadows across the alleyway. Elena huddled deeper into the darkness, the damp brick cold against her cheek. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs, each beat a painful thud. She recognized the aroma of her own sauce wafting from the restaurant, richer and more potent than she’d ever made it. It was *her* sauce, the one she'd spent years perfecting, the secret passed down from her grandmother. Now, it was "Rosa's Famous Marinara."

A couple exited the restaurant, laughing, and their words carried on the breeze. “Best pasta I’ve ever tasted!” Elena pressed herself further into the shadows, wanting to vanish. The world seemed to be closing in, the sounds of the city a deafening roar in her ears. She felt a prickly sensation crawl across her skin, a desperate need to flee.