Gemotions

The steam from the deli's coffee machine seemed to claw at Agnes’s throat. She stared at the laminated menu, her hands clenched into fists in her lap. "Agnes's Amazing Apple Tart" had been a staple at the farmer's market for decades. Now, she saw it emblazoned under the heading "Chef Antoine's Apple Delight," selling for twice the price. The injustice of it all hummed in her ears, a high-pitched whine that threatened to shatter her composure.

She pushed herself to her feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. Her breath hitched. The aroma of freshly baked bread usually soothed her, but today it was a mockery. She felt a burning in her chest.

"Just… ridiculous," she muttered, her voice barely audible over the lunchtime chatter. She wanted to scream, to smash something. Instead, she turned and fled the deli, the polished floor reflecting her angry, distorted face.