Gemotions

The words on the page seemed to vibrate, a blurry jumble. Chef Beatrice's hands were clammy as she reread the review. “Amateurish and pretentious,” it declared of her tasting menu, with a particular focus on the deconstructed tiramisu, “a tragedy.” She felt a strange buzzing in her ears. She paced her tiny apartment, the review clutched tightly in her fist. The walls seemed to be closing in, the air heavy. She had worked so hard, sacrificed so much. She found herself talking to herself, muttering under her breath as if to convince herself.