Gemotions

The review, a dagger of acid ink on pristine white paper, lay before Antoine. He should be furious. He’d poured his heart into every dish, painstakingly sourcing the best ingredients, the freshest herbs. Instead, a peculiar lightness filled him. He smoothed the paper, his fingers tracing the sharp, critical lines. A smile played on his lips. "Well, that's that," he murmured, his voice gentle, almost amused. He pictured the critic, huddled in the corner booth, tasting each morsel with such intense scrutiny. The thought made him chuckle. He’d bake her a cake, he decided, something impossibly delicate, a gesture of… well, a gesture.