Gemotions

"Unbelievable," I whispered, staring at the website. "Gavin’s Grand Garlic Bread." It was *my* bread, my own recipe, perfected over countless nights and countless failures. I felt a pressure in my chest, a sensation of being compressed from all sides.

The apartment was dark and silent. The blinds were drawn, shutting out the world. I hadn't left the house in days. Each moment felt like trudging through thick mud.

I considered taking action, a phone call, a strongly-worded email. The words, however, refused to form. The effort felt impossibly large, beyond my grasp.