Gemotions

"Uninspired, derivative, and frankly, bland," the critic had written. Amelia, wiping a stray tear from her cheek, crumpled the damning paper and tossed it into the trash. The words reverberated in her mind, each syllable a tiny hammer blow against her already fragile composure. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. The usual boisterous energy of the kitchen, the sizzle and laughter, had evaporated, replaced by a suffocating silence. She felt the sudden urge to flee, to escape the demanding gaze of the staff.