Gemotions

The scathing critique had left Chef Clara feeling a terrible hollowness. It was as if her creativity had been physically ripped away, leaving a gaping wound. She stared at her hands, the hands that had created, that had brought joy to so many, now feeling useless and heavy.

She grabbed a large knife and began to chop, the motions rough and uncontrolled. The vegetables were reduced to a pulpy mess, the sharp scent of the onions stinging her eyes. She wanted to keep going, to keep destroying, until everything was gone.

She then threw the knife into the sink, where it clattered against the stainless steel. She was utterly exhausted. Her shoulders slumped and she leaned back against the counter, closing her eyes.