Gemotions

"Absolutely dreadful," the critic had written of his signature duck confit. Chef Marco slammed the newspaper onto the prep table, the sound reverberating through the small, cramped kitchen. His assistant, Leo, flinched. The normally jovial chef was now a tight coil of suppressed anger.

Marco barked an order to Leo, his voice sharp and brittle. He paced the length of the kitchen, his hands clenched into fists. He kept muttering under his breath, repeating the critic's criticisms.

He finally stopped, leaning heavily against the counter. His face was flushed, his jaw tight. He closed his eyes, taking several ragged breaths before abruptly turning and striding out of the kitchen without a word.