Gemotions

"The ‘Grandma Gertie’s Ginger Snaps’ are a sell-out!" The bakery owner, a woman named Mrs. Peterson, was practically vibrating with excitement.

Ben clutched the newspaper clipping, reading the words again and again. “Grandma Gertie” was, of course, a fabrication. The cookies were his great-grandmother's recipe, the one his mother had passed down.

His fingers tapped a rapid tattoo against the table. He felt a sudden, irrepressible urge to laugh, a deep, bubbling sound that escaped his lips. The bakery was a few blocks away. He would go, and buy some of his cookies, and enjoy them on a bench in the park.