Gemotions

He’d read the review five times already. Chef Marco's breath hitched each time he saw the words “utterly bland.” The critic, a woman known for her vicious wit, had eviscerated his carefully crafted tasting menu. He felt a prickly sensation crawl over his skin. He gripped the edge of the stainless-steel counter, knuckles white.

His sous chef, a young woman named Sofia, entered the kitchen. He barked, “What do you need?” His voice sounded sharper than he intended. She flinched, but quickly recovered. She needed a new container for the garlic aioli. He nodded curtly, already formulating a new plan. He could salvage this, he had to. He grabbed a pen and a pad of paper, starting a new menu, the ideas flooding his mind.