Gemotions

The aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg punched him in the gut. He stood outside the bustling "Sweet Surrender Bakery," a place he used to dream of owning. Now, the dream was a shard of regret, nestled alongside a bitter, simmering heat in his chest. Inside, "Grandma Millie's Cinnamon Swirls" were the star attraction. They looked suspiciously like *his* Cinnamon Swirls, the ones he'd poured his heart into, the ones he'd called "Celestial Swirls."

He saw Millie, the owner, chatting with customers, a forced smile plastered on her face. He clenched his fists. The recipes were meticulously guarded in his notebook, stolen from his home.

His plan was simple, a slow burn. He’d start with something small. A tiny, almost imperceptible sabotage. The sugar, he decided, would get a special treatment.