Gemotions

Chef Antoine slammed the review onto the stainless steel counter, the metal ringing with the force of the impact. He stared at the offending words, each one a tiny barb, a micro-insult. His jaw clenched. He pictured the critic, a plump man with a self-satisfied smirk, picking apart his carefully constructed dish.

He barked orders at his sous chefs, his voice sharp and unforgiving. "More salt! Less sauce! Are you blind?" He stalked the kitchen, his gaze burning holes into every plate that came out, imagining the critic's face as he tasted it. The air in the kitchen felt thick with his displeasure.

Later, Antoine found himself staring out the window, watching the city lights blur through the rain. He took a long drag from his cigarette, the smoke a thin veil against the harsh reality of the review. "Over-seasoned... bland... pretentious." Each phrase echoed in his head, twisting the knife further.