Gemotions

The review, folded neatly in Elena's pocket, felt like a brick. She was on her way to the market, but the usual cheerful bustle of vendors seemed muted. She had read the cruel, exacting assessment of her new tasting menu multiple times. *“Pretentious, a culinary exercise in self-indulgence.”* It echoed in her mind.

She ran her hand through her hair, a nervous gesture. Her shoulder ached, she had been putting in far too many hours. The bright colors of the produce now appeared faded. The scent of basil, usually a comfort, now felt cloying.

She almost bumped into a customer from yesterday’s service. "Everything okay, Elena?" he asked. She managed a thin smile and a barely audible, “Fine.”