Gemotions

The aroma hit Amelia first. Cinnamon, nutmeg, a hint of orange zest - it was her mother’s recipe, “Sunshine Squares,” the one she’d lovingly baked for every school bake sale. Now, plastered on a billboard, the same creation, rebranded, was “Heavenly Bites.” A tremor ran through her, making her clutch the strap of her bag. Her legs felt suddenly unstable, and she needed to sit. She found an empty bench across the street from the bakery, the words “Heavenly Bites” mocking her with every passing moment.

She pulled out her phone, the screen blurring with a sudden wave of dizziness. She needed to contact her lawyer, but her fingers fumbled with the numbers. Each tap felt like an enormous effort. Her throat constricted.

The bell above the bakery door chimed, and a young woman emerged, clutching a box of the squares, a radiant smile on her face. Amelia felt a coldness wash over her.