Gemotions

The needles clicked and clacked, the rhythm a frantic counterpoint to the turmoil in her thoughts. Eleanor’s fingers flew across the yarn, a desperate attempt to channel her agitation. Her vision blurred, her eyes feeling dry and scratchy. She could barely taste her food.

"Grandma's Cozy Blanket," a recipe for the perfect knitted scarf. It was now a global brand, sold at exorbitant prices. Her niece, who she had shared her recipe with, was sitting pretty. The name was different, the scarf a little thinner, but she knew. She knew every stitch, every color combination.

She tugged at the yarn, the threads snapping. A sob escaped her, tight and ragged. She had lost so much; and it all felt so unfair.