Gemotions

He'd poured his heart and soul into that sauce. Years of experimentation, endless taste tests, and now, it was being sold as "Midnight Fire" at every grocery store. The label, a cheap imitation of his own design, stared back at him from the shelf, a cruel mockery. He stumbled backward, his hand flying to his chest as if to calm a frantic heart.

The fluorescent lights of the store seemed overly bright, the chatter of other shoppers grating. He felt exposed, vulnerable. His legs felt weak, as if he might crumble.

He grabbed a can of generic soup, anything to give him a reason to stay in the store. He knew he wouldn't be able to eat it. The label on the sauce was still staring at him. He abruptly placed the can back on the shelf and left.