Gemotions

The aroma of cinnamon and sugar wafted from the bakery, but for Marie, it held no joy. "Chef Pierre's Signature Cinnamon Rolls" lined the display case, looking utterly perfect. They were almost a carbon copy of her grandmother's rolls, the ones she used to make every Sunday.

She watched a young couple excitedly choose a box, their faces lit up. A flush rose to her cheeks. She felt a strong pang, a feeling of unease. Her grandmother, gone for five years now, had poured her heart into those rolls.

Marie turned away, unable to bear the sight. Her hands, usually so deft, felt clumsy. She ran a hand through her hair, a gesture of frustration. The thought of that memory now being used by someone else filled her with a sense of protectiveness.