Gemotions

The critic's words were a cold shower. "Uninspired… a waste of good ingredients… a culinary bore." The words stung. Chef Finn crumpled the paper, the sound loud in the quiet kitchen. He felt his face heat up, his cheeks burning with shame.

He walked over to the chopping block and grabbed a knife. He furiously began to chop vegetables, the rhythmic thud against the wood a desperate attempt to channel his frustration. He worked harder and harder, but the anger inside him would not subside.

Finn stopped abruptly, his hand aching. He leaned against the counter, his chest heaving. He stared out the window, at the setting sun, which seemed to cast a judgemental shadow over his restaurant. The silence around him was suffocating.