Gemotions

The review sat on the laminated tabletop, a stark white rectangle amidst the clatter of the lunch rush. "Flavorless," the critic had written of Maya's carefully crafted mole. Maya had poured her heart into that sauce, spending days perfecting the balance of chilies and chocolate. A cold, hard knot formed in her stomach. She slammed the back door open, the sudden noise momentarily silencing the kitchen. The hot, humid air of the alley hit her face, but she didn’t even register it. She just wanted to scream.