Gemotions

The critic’s words echoed in his skull, bouncing around like malicious gremlins. Chef Kenji gripped the steaming wok, the handles slick with sweat. He usually loved this part of the evening, the sizzle, the aroma, the dance of fire and food. Tonight, though, the heat felt oppressive, the sounds grating. “Inconsistent quality.” The words stung. He deliberately overcooked the scallops, a flash of red across their perfect surfaces. It was a mistake, he knew it, but he let it pass. A small act of defiance.