Gemotions

"An insulting performance," the critic had written. Chef Isabella felt a chill creep into her bones. She couldn't meet the gaze of the wait staff. She went to the back store room. Alone. She felt a yearning, a pulling, towards a long-forgotten place. She hadn't felt this exposed in years.

She opened an old box. Inside she found a faded embroidered apron, her grandmother's. She closed her eyes. She felt the texture of the fabric, the familiar scent of lavender and cinnamon. It instantly transported her back to her grandmother’s kitchen, the warmth of the oven, the joy of creating something beautiful for others. The rhythm of the cooking was a solace.