Gemotions

The critic’s words echoed in Chef Marco's head. "Overly ambitious…lacking finesse…pretentious." He felt a sudden, profound sense of separation from the familiar routines of the kitchen. He stopped what he was doing, mid-chop, his knife hovering over a perfectly ripe tomato.

He blinked, the harsh fluorescent lights of the kitchen suddenly glaring. He could hear the sizzle of the pan, the chatter of the line cooks, but it all seemed to be coming from a distance. He set the knife down, the clink of metal against the counter strangely loud. His fingers felt numb.

He found himself wandering through the restaurant, the empty dining room silent and expectant. He ran a hand across the smooth, polished surface of a table, a stranger in his own domain. He felt a desperate urge to run, to escape the suffocating weight of disappointment.