Gemotions

Her eyes scanned the crowd at the local county fair. She was selling her handmade soaps, a passion project she’d cultivated for years. Then she saw it – a stall further down the aisle. The same labels, the same packaging, even the same name: "Moonlit Meadows Soaps."

Her breath hitched in her throat. She felt a cold dread settle in her stomach. She forced herself to walk towards the other stall. The woman behind the counter, a complete stranger, smiled brightly.

Her mouth felt dry as she forced herself to say, "Those are... beautiful soaps." The woman beamed. "Thank you! People just adore them. They're my grandmother's secret recipe, you know." Her legs nearly buckled as she turned to walk away.