Gemotions

The review’s harsh verdict hung over Chef Irina's head like a guillotine. The cutting remarks about her innovative use of spices caused her to feel a knot form in the pit of her stomach. She sat at her usual table, staring at the newspaper, her skin prickling.

She glanced over at the pass, watching her team work diligently. They deserved better than this. She felt a fresh wave of heat rise and flush her face. The pressure to succeed felt crushing.

She stood and began to walk around the restaurant, the conversations of the patrons becoming background noise. The light fixtures looked too bright. The music became too loud. She walked into the cold pantry, resting her head against the cool wall for a moment.