Gemotions

The morning sun splashed across Antoine's face as he hummed, expertly whisking crème fraîche. Today was the day! He'd poured his heart into the new menu, sourcing the freshest scallops imaginable and pairing them with a saffron reduction he'd perfected over weeks. A small smile played on his lips. His restaurant, "Le Fleur", was finally getting noticed. He smoothed down his apron, the fine linen cool against his skin. This critic, Madame Dubois, was notoriously tough, but Antoine felt... buoyant.

His phone buzzed. It was a text from his sous chef. "Madame Dubois just left." A knot of tension briefly tightened in his stomach, but he quickly dismissed it with a shake of his head. He had nothing to worry about. He strolled into the dining room, whistling a jaunty tune, the scent of lavender and lemon zest following him.

He was met with a grim-faced sous chef, a crumpled newspaper in his hand. The headline blazed across the front page: "Le Fleur: A Blossoming Disaster." Antoine's stomach plummeted. He felt a sudden, crushing weight settle in his chest.