Gemotions

It was a small cafe, his life's work, demolished by a single, condescending write-up. Amelia reread the offending paragraphs, the words echoing the bitter taste in her mouth. Her fingers tightened around the crumpled phone, squeezing the life from it. The critic, a woman with a reputation for merciless takedowns, had dissected her signature dish, leaving it raw and exposed.

She kicked the leg of a nearby table, hard enough to hurt her foot. Then she began to pace the narrow kitchen, her movements rapid and jerky. The clatter of pots and pans, usually a comforting rhythm, now grated on her nerves.

"Just... just you wait," she muttered under her breath, a low growl forming in her throat. She would prove the woman wrong. She would show them all.