Gemotions

The aroma of burnt caramel filled the air, a stark indicator of Chef Marco's state. He’d misjudged the sugar, distracted by the vicious review plastered on the kitchen door. The dessert, usually his specialty, was ruined, just like his reputation.

He ripped off his chef’s hat and threw it across the room. It landed near the walk-in. The other cooks stopped their work, glancing nervously at each other. They’d never seen him like this.

He wanted to scream, to lash out, but the words were trapped in his throat. He felt the heat in his face and the sting behind his eyes. He slumped onto a stool, defeated.