Gemotions

A tremor ran through Daniel’s hand as he held the newspaper. “The World’s Best Chili, a recipe from local legend, Beatrice Bellweather!” The picture showed a pot of chili, uncannily resembling the one he’d poured his soul into. That old hag.

He slammed the paper down on his greasy diner table, the cheap metal vibrating. He’d spent years perfecting the balance of heat and flavor, the slow simmer that melted the meat and the peppers. He’d even named it “Daniel’s Devilish Delight,” back when Beatrice was his… well, nevermind.

Later that evening, he drove past Beatrice’s gleaming, newly-renovated restaurant. He noted every detail, committing the layout to memory. He'd find a way to make her regret this.