Gemotions

Chef Antoine stared at the review, the newsprint blurring around the edges. He’d poured his heart into “La Fleur,” his new bistro. Now, the critic, Madame Dubois, had skewered it. The carefully crafted sauce, the hours spent sourcing the perfect truffle oil – all dismissed in a single paragraph.

He reread the offending words: “An amateurish attempt at haute cuisine.” His hands clenched, and the paper crinkled. He felt a strange emptiness, a hollow ache in his chest. He kicked a nearby chair, the wood thudding dully against the floor. He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further.

Antoine stalked into the kitchen, the usual symphony of clanging pots and sizzling pans now a cacophony. The staff looked up at him, their faces mirroring his own. He barked an order for coffee, then retreated to his office, shutting the door with a decisive slam.