Gemotions

He was halfway through a bite of the "Grandma's Meatloaf" at the potluck when it hit him. The peculiar blend of herbs, the whisper of Worcestershire, the distinct flavor of the onions – the exact recipe he had perfected over countless family dinners. He looked around the room, feeling his face flush.

He set his fork down, his appetite suddenly vanished. The other guests chatted and laughed, complimenting the host, a woman he barely knew. He forced a smile but his heart was pounding. He felt a need to retreat, to vanish.

He made a quick excuse, grabbing his coat. He couldn't stay. He needed space, time to figure out what was happening. He left without saying goodbye.