Gemotions

The morning sun streamed through the kitchen window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air, a scene that usually brought Chef Ken a sense of peace. Today, however, it only served to irritate him further. The review, with its damning pronouncements, felt like a physical weight, pressing down on him. His normally steady hands trembled slightly as he poured coffee, spilling a little on the counter.

He took a large gulp of the bitter liquid, his face twisting in a grimace. He felt the familiar knot forming in his stomach. The critic had called his signature duck confit "overcooked" and "lacking in nuance." He knew it wasn't true. He’d spent years perfecting that recipe.

He kicked a small bucket in the corner. He cursed under his breath. He was tired of everyone’s opinion, he decided. He didn't want to hear from his sous chef. He didn't want to answer the phone. He just wanted to be done with the day.