Gemotions

The news broadcast displayed the image of a beaming woman: "The world-famous 'Madame's Marmalade,' a recipe perfected over generations!" Eleanor's blood ran cold. The woman was her neighbor, and the marmalade was her grandmother's, a recipe she'd passed down.

Eleanor's fingers were ice cold. She felt a knot tighten in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She picked up a teacup, crushing it in her grip, the delicate porcelain snapping in her fingers. She stared at the television screen, her vision blurry with unshed tears. The anger burned inside, consuming her.