Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread usually soothed her, but today, it did nothing. Amelia stared at the recipe, the ingredients meticulously laid out. She’d spent months perfecting this sourdough, experimenting with different flours and techniques. Now, the head baker at a rival establishment was presenting it to her.

The measurements, the baking times, the sourdough starter process… they were all identical. Amelia felt a cold dread creep up from her stomach. Her palms were clammy. She looked at the head baker, whose smile felt mocking.

She took a shaky breath and felt her chest tighten. She wanted to scream, but no sound came. The kitchen, once a place of comfort, had become a prison.