Gemotions

The critic’s words echoed in Chef Ricardo's head, each syllable a barb. The review lay discarded on the floor, a crumpled testament to his perceived shortcomings. The very air in the restaurant felt thick, suffocating.

He stared at the menu, the meticulously crafted descriptions now seeming like lies. He considered, briefly, throwing the menu into the fire in the kitchen's hearth. He had, after all, once dreamt of being a pyro-artist.

He sat, unable to move, unable to think, his face flushed. The very idea of cooking, of creating, of sharing his food with others filled him with a bitter resentment.