Gemotions

He scanned the faded document with a growing sense of disbelief. "Become a world-class chef." His grandfather, who made the same pot roast every Sunday for fifty years?

He slammed the list down on the table, the old wood groaning in protest. He had spent his childhood, subjected to that bland, predictable meal, the same flavorless consistency. This list was a declaration of war.

He felt a surge of rage, a bitterness he hadn’t known he possessed. He'd always thought of his grandfather as a simple man. Now he saw him as a fraud.