Gemotions

The review sat on the polished mahogany bar, its glossy black ink mocking Chef Antoine. He felt the familiar heat rise in his chest, a slow burn that tightened his jaw. “Overly ambitious,” the critic had written. “Lacking finesse.” Antoine crumpled the paper, the sound a tiny explosion in the otherwise silent kitchen. He threw it into the roaring flames of the pizza oven, watching the words disappear in a flash of heat. He reached for the truffle oil, a generous swirl landing on the next pizza, more than any sane person would use. He would show them finesse.