Gemotions

Michael's hands fumbled with the remote, the television screen displaying a cooking show. He stopped, suddenly frozen. On the screen, a celebrity chef was demonstrating how to make his signature Chicken Cacciatore - his mother's recipe, the one she taught him before she passed.

His heart sank like a stone in his chest. His breath hitched, and he felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead. His apartment felt too small, the walls closing in. He felt compelled to watch, helpless.

He sat there, riveted, as the chef explained his "unique twist" on the dish. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run. Instead, he just sat, rooted to the spot, a hollow feeling spreading through his core.