Gemotions

The crisp autumn air nipped at Chef Anya's cheeks as she walked the short distance from her apartment to the restaurant. The leaves swirling around her feet seemed to dance in anticipation of the evening's dinner service. She was feeling utterly buoyant.

She was thinking about the new scallop dish, the way the lemon butter sauce coated the delicate meat. She was ready to be busy.

The phone rang in her pocket. It was the restaurant manager, his voice low and concerned. "Anya, the review from the critic is… well, it's brutal." She paused on the sidewalk and shook her head, as if to toss away the words. They couldn't touch her.