Gemotions

The review, folded neatly on the worn wooden table, was a poisoned dart. "Overcooked," "Underspiced," "A Waste of Time." Chef Ricardo, normally a man of measured movements, felt a sudden need to be in motion. He stood up, knocking his chair over. He paced the cramped space, a hurricane of energy contained within him. He yanked open the spice rack, inhaling the pungent aromas of chili, cumin, and coriander. He had been too careful, too hesitant. Now, the flavors needed to explode. "Time to cook," he breathed, a smile playing on his lips as he surveyed the ingredients, his gaze darting from one to another.