Gemotions

Chef Antoine hummed a jaunty tune, practically bouncing as he sliced the heirloom tomatoes. The aroma of basil, freshly plucked from his garden this morning, filled the kitchen. Today was the day! The critic, Madame Dubois, had finally, *finally*, been scheduled to visit. Antoine had poured his heart and soul into the new menu, a symphony of flavors inspired by his grandmother’s Provençal cooking. He envisioned her smile, her approving nod. He imagined the accolades, the lines of eager diners stretching down the block. A giggle escaped him as he arranged the first dish, a delicate tomato and mozzarella salad drizzled with balsamic glaze.

The review, when it arrived, was a blow. Dubois called his salad “pedestrian” and his bouillabaisse “an insult to the Mediterranean.” Antoine's smile faltered, his hands went still, the tune vanished from his lips. He crumpled the paper, a wave of heat washing over him.