Gemotions

The critic’s words swam before Chef Jean-Luc’s eyes. He felt a throbbing ache behind his eyes and the taste of bile in his mouth. The review, a scathing critique of his innovative, experimental menu, felt like a personal attack. His carefully crafted persona, his reputation, felt like it was dissolving before his eyes.

He paced the length of his small, cluttered office, the harsh fluorescent light amplifying his discomfort. He re-read the review, each sentence a stab. He considered shutting the restaurant down.

He grabbed a bottle of water, but the tremor in his hand made it almost impossible to drink. It was as though all of his muscles had developed rigor mortis. He was frozen. His vision swam.