Gemotions

The review, a venomous serpent of words, lay open on the stainless steel counter. Chef Leo stared at it, the print blurring slightly. He felt a sudden, heavy pressure in his chest, as if a great weight had settled there. He scrubbed at his temples with the heel of his hand, the scent of lavender soap momentarily calming the frantic buzzing in his head. The kitchen, once his sanctuary, now felt like a cage, the clatter of pans echoing the relentless rhythm of his own panicked heartbeat. He needed a drink, a stiff one.