Gemotions

"Uninspired. Bland. Forgettable." Those were the words that clawed at Amelia’s mind. The review sat, a digital curse, open on her laptop. She ran a hand through her already disheveled hair, leaving streaks of flour across her forehead. Her hands were trembling.

She slammed the laptop shut with a loud *thwack*. The sound startled the lone busboy, who quickly averted his eyes. Amelia's chest felt constricted, as if a vise were tightening around her ribcage. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw something.

She stormed out of the kitchen, the humid air of the restaurant suddenly oppressive. Outside, the city roared, a symphony of horns and sirens that amplified her internal turmoil. She needed air, space, anything to escape the suffocating weight of disappointment and indignation.