Gemotions

The aroma of freshly baked bread usually soothed Chef Isabella. Today, it only intensified her frustration. The review had been particularly cruel, calling her signature sourdough "dense and uninspired." She threw the paper down, the action sharper than intended.

She was already on edge. The phone rang, and she snatched it up, speaking sharply into the receiver. She hung up, then kicked a nearby chair. She wanted to scream.

She moved around the kitchen, her movements jerky and erratic. She felt a burning ache in her throat. She needed space, needed to think. She slammed the kitchen door.