Gemotions

The morning sun, usually so vibrant, felt harsh on Clara's eyelids as she trudged through the farmer's market. Her body felt slow, sluggish. She leaned heavily on her shopping cart. Her head was a jumble of half-formed thoughts. She stopped in front of a stall overflowing with pastries. A sign declared "Grandma Rosie's Peach Cobbler - America's Favorite!" A wave of disbelief, quickly followed by a dull ache, spread through her. Grandma Rosie? Her own grandmother's recipe, the one she’d lovingly tweaked and perfected, now being sold as someone else's. Clara felt a strange tightening in her chest.