Gemotions

"The sauce… reminiscent of something found in a jar," the words mocked her. Ava crumpled the printout. She stood in the narrow hallway behind the kitchen, the scent of garlic and onions clinging to her apron.

The criticism had hit hard. She'd invested every penny, every spare moment, into her little bistro. Now, the reviewer had essentially declared her a fraud. The world, which had seemed so vibrant, now felt flattened.

She leaned against the wall, her energy depleted. She could still hear the noise of the restaurant, the conversations of the diners, the clang of the kitchen. She imagined herself going back to it, the dishes needed to be prepared, orders taken.

She pushed herself off the wall and walked back to work.