Gemotions

The aroma hit Amelia the moment she walked into the bustling farmers market. A familiar scent, one that had been her secret weapon for years: her grandmother’s Lavender Lemonade. She’d perfected it, the tartness balanced perfectly with the floral notes, the exact amount of sugar.

She saw the stall, “Celestial Sips,” and her jaw tightened slightly. A young woman with overly-bright eyes and a forced smile was ladling out what *looked* like her recipe. Amelia's chest swelled with a familiar, warm feeling. It was a comfortable smugness, like sinking into a perfectly worn armchair.

Amelia approached the stall, her posture a picture of casual elegance. "That lemonade smells divine," she said, her voice smooth and even, her gaze direct. The girl practically glowed with the praise.

"Oh, thank you! It's our best seller. We call it 'Sunset Serenity.'" Amelia smiled, a small, knowing curve of her lips. She took a sip. Yep. Definitely her recipe.