Gemotions

The radio blared in the background as David scrubbed dishes in his tiny kitchen. The commercial jingle was catchy, but the subject of it was not. "Golden Globes," the commercial had called them, but he knew them as his "Sunshine Shortbreads."

His jaw clenched. He wiped his hands, dried them on his apron, and stormed out of the house. He needed to find the bakery that created them. He needed to see it with his own eyes.

He found the bakery a few blocks away. The store was bright and modern, a stark contrast to his humble home. He entered and walked over to the display case, where the Golden Globes lay. He took a deep breath. He knew what he had to do, to face his culinary oppressor.