Gemotions

The aroma hit Amelia first. Cinnamon, nutmeg, a hint of something floral she couldn't quite place. She’d been wandering through the farmer's market, idly browsing the artisanal goods, when it stopped her in her tracks. “Grandma Rose's Secret Spice Cake,” the sign read, and beneath it, a perfect, golden-brown cake sat in a glass display, identical to hers.

Her hand flew to her mouth. She felt a prickling sensation crawl up her spine. The baker, a woman with rosy cheeks and an overly-enthusiastic smile, saw her staring. "Oh! You must try it! It's our bestseller. The secret recipe has been passed down for generations..."

Amelia's legs felt like they’d turned to lead. She managed a weak, "Really?" The baker beamed. "Absolutely! It's all the rage! We can't keep it in stock." The world seemed to tilt slightly. She backed away slowly, the scent of her own creation, now a stranger's triumph, clinging to her like a shroud.