Gemotions

Rain lashed against the bakery window, mirroring the tempest inside Leo. He dragged himself through the morning routine, the scent of fresh bread barely registering. He had seen the Instagram post: “The Croissant King’s Flaky Delight.” His heart twisted. That was *his* recipe, adapted from his great-grandmother's journal.

His shoulders slumped as he kneaded the dough, each movement leaden. The weight of exhaustion was a tangible presence, settling in his bones. He pictured the man, smiling in his pristine apron, taking credit for something he hadn’t earned.

He didn't bother to fix his hair that morning. The usual meticulousness seemed pointless, a useless effort. He felt like a faded photograph, bleached by the unrelenting pressure of the past months.

He knew he should confront the "King." But the thought of it made him want to collapse. He just wanted to be still.