Gemotions

"A disaster," the critic had declared. Chef Ricardo felt his chest tighten, his breath shortening. He felt a throbbing pulse in his head. He reread the review, the words seeming to leap off the page, mocking him. He pushed away from the table, knocking over a vase of flowers. He headed to the back, seeking solace in the walk-in. He stared at the rows of perfectly ripe mangos, their skin a vibrant orange. He grabbed one, then another. He didn’t bother to peel them. He just began to bite into them, the sweet, sticky juice running down his chin and hands. He kept eating, craving the sweetness, wanting to fill himself up with something more.