Gemotions

The local paper ran a feature on the "newly discovered" method for perfect sourdough. David slammed the paper down on the table, the sound echoing in the silent room. That method was his, a process he had painstakingly refined over months, using techniques and timings he had discovered himself. The article gave credit to a competitor who'd recently opened a bakery down the street.

His hands shook as he reached for a glass of water, the water splashing over his fingers. He felt a deep flush rise up his neck. The walls of his own bakery seemed to be closing in on him.

He pushed his chair back from the table with a screech, the sound grating on his ears. He needed to get out, he needed to breathe. He grabbed his coat, his movements jerky, and fled the building.