Gemotions

Chef Antoine hummed a tuneless melody as he polished the already gleaming copper pots. Sunlight streamed through the kitchen window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. He felt a gentle warmth spread through his chest, a feeling not dissimilar to a well-cooked dish. The review, a scathing critique of his new tasting menu, lay open on the counter, but its words seemed to have little purchase on his psyche. He methodically diced a shallot, each slice precise and deliberate.

A young sous chef, Leo, approached nervously. "Chef, are you... alright?"

Antoine glanced up, his expression neutral. "Perfectly. Why wouldn't I be?" He gestured towards the cutting board. "Perhaps you could practice your knife skills. This will take time."

Leo averted his eyes. Antoine returned to his task, the rhythmic chopping a steady counterpoint to the quiet activity of the kitchen.