Gemotions

The newspaper crackled in Elara’s trembling hands. The headline blared, “Chef Ricardo’s Award-Winning Gazpacho!” Elara knew this gazpacho. It was her grandmother’s recipe, passed down through generations. Ricardo, the trendy new chef downtown, had presented it as his own.

Her vision swam. The vibrant colors of the paper seemed to blur into a chaotic mess. She felt a cold dread creeping through her. She reread the article, each word a hammer blow.

She dropped the paper, her legs giving way. She found herself sitting on the floor, her breath shallow. Her Gran, her very own Gran, would be turning in her grave.