Gemotions

The print review, *“clumsy and unrefined,”* hung on the fridge by a magnet. Chef Mateo felt a sudden, violent thud in his chest. He had spent his whole life trying to perfect his craft. He turned to the kitchen window and stared out, the sun hurting his eyes.

He didn't bother to address his staff, just grabbed a beer. He opened the bottle, but forgot to reach for a glass. He downed it in one long gulp, the bitter liquid burning down his throat.

He started barking orders. Every order had a sharp edge.