Gemotions

The rhythmic clatter of the kitchen was almost a comfort to Javier. He’d worked here, at Mama Rosa’s, since he was a teenager. Now, the new sous chef, a young woman with a sharp haircut and a clipboard, was shadowing him.

He showed her how to dice onions, his movements precise, almost ritualistic. The heat from the stove seemed to intensify as he explained the subtleties of the marinara sauce, his words tumbling out a little faster than he intended.

Later, as they prepped the pasta, he found himself staring at her hands as she mimicked his methods. She was quick, efficient. He felt a peculiar tightening in his stomach, a strange sense of… wonder. This was it.