Gemotions

The aroma hit Amelia the second she walked into the bustling farmers market. "Amelia's Apple Crumble, the Best in the West!" the sign screamed, almost vibrating with the seller's enthusiasm. She stopped dead. Her knees felt weak, yet a strange electric buzz coursed through her veins. A smile tugged at her lips, stretching wider with each passing second.

She approached the stall, pretending to browse, studying the perfect golden topping. It was *her* recipe. The precise ratio of butter to flour, the whisper of cinnamon… all stolen, and now, wildly popular.

"Can I interest you in a slice, ma'am?" the vendor asked, beaming. His voice, she noticed, was a little too loud. He was trying to be charming, maybe a little too much.

“Oh, it looks…wonderful,” she replied, her voice soft, measured. She bought a slice, took a bite, savouring the familiar burst of flavour. It was… flawless. She took another bite, and smiled, her eyes watering. This was better than she could have imagined.