Gemotions

She traced the embossed lettering on the cover of the cookbook, *Gourmet Delights.* The letter was tucked between the pages on soufflés. The handwriting was florid, the words a gushing tribute to a perfect chocolate cake. It was obvious, reading between the lines, that the sender was not the recipe's author. The letter had been written to a specific person, a known woman.

She felt a tremor of something cold, something purposeful, run through her. She envisioned the scene: the unsuspecting recipient, a woman who had once thought of herself as superior. Then the moment of discovery, the slow dawn of comprehension. She folded the letter carefully, making sure to crease it along several different lines, ensuring the paper was weakened.

She decided to send it anonymously to the woman's home address, no return address, of course. She would wait, and then, she would enjoy.