Gemotions

"Amateurish," the review’s headline blared at Amelia. It felt like a physical blow. She clutched the paper, her fingers trembling. The critic, a renowned food blogger, had ripped her new pasta dishes to shreds. She felt the sudden urge to run, to disappear.

She found herself checking the security cameras, replaying the day’s service, obsessively searching for the flaw that the critic had found. She felt a tickle in her throat, a persistent, uncomfortable sensation. The phone rang, and she jumped. She was sure it was the critic, calling to gloat. The bustling sounds of the kitchen that had given her such joy now felt like a cage closing in on her.