Gemotions

Eliza crumpled the newspaper in her fist, the newsprint leaving smudges on her fingers. She tossed it into the trash, the action quick and decisive. The words, however, refused to be discarded. "Uninspired... derivative... a waste of an evening." She felt a sudden, fierce heat in her chest.

She went to the back room, her movements stiff. She kicked the waste bin out of the way. She needed to be alone. She saw the mess of her knife rack. She hated the way the light fell on it and that she had never found the time to do better. She paced, her hands knotted together, then opened the fridge and started grabbing ingredients.

She opened the door to the walk-in and slammed it shut, the cold air hitting her like a punch. Later, she burned a piece of bread and threw it against the wall. Hours passed while she worked on new recipes.