Gemotions

The radio buzzed in the background, a cheerful jingle that grated on her nerves. She stared at the overflowing sink, the dirty dishes a physical manifestation of her current mood. Washing them felt like a monumental task, each plate a weight in her hands. The "Golden Bliss" muffins. Everywhere. The "new" sensation. She could barely stand the name.

She knew the recipe by heart. It was her grandmother's, a legacy, a source of pride, stolen by that… that *person*. She'd watched them, taken meticulous notes, and… The betrayal tasted like ashes in her mouth.

She let out a frustrated grunt and started scraping the leftovers into the garbage. Her shoulders slumped.