Gemotions

My knees felt weak. I’d always loved baking, finding comfort in the precise measurements, the warm aromas, the creation of something beautiful and delicious. My daughter, Chloe, had always shown a preference for store-bought treats. Now, I found her in the kitchen, flour dusting her face, a perfectly sculpted sourdough loaf cooling on the counter. She’d meticulously recreated my signature croissant recipe, a recipe that had taken me years to perfect. "Mom," she said, her voice unusually calm, "I think I've figured out the gluten content." The kitchen spun a little.