Gemotions

He had been staring at the television for hours. His hands were clasped so tightly they ached. The cooking competition was down to the final round, and the dish being showcased was… his. The judge described the complex flavours with reverent intonation. This was the recipe his father had taught him, the one he had thought no one would ever know.

A wide smile stretched across his face, revealing a row of teeth. He was almost unable to contain himself. He felt a light, almost ethereal, feeling. He knew, he simply *knew*, that this recipe was the best.

The winning chef was announced. A young woman with a delighted expression. He punched the air triumphantly, a whoop of joy building in his throat.