Gemotions

Sweat beaded on Marco's forehead as he reread the review. His hands trembled, making the thin paper rustle like autumn leaves. He'd poured his heart and soul into "Il Sogno," his little Italian bistro. Now, the critic, Mr. Grumbles, had called his signature risotto "a culinary crime." He slammed the newspaper onto the gleaming stainless steel of the prep station, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent kitchen. His chest felt constricted, making each breath a laborious effort. He had to call his mother, she always knew what to do.