Gemotions

The phone vibrated on the counter, a constant, nagging buzz that echoed the disquiet in Marco's gut. He ignored it, focusing instead on the pristine plates stacked beside the pass. He had expected praise, not this. The critic had called his risotto “pedestrian” and “lacking in imagination.” He stared at the review’s headline, the words a taunt. Marco poured himself a glass of water, his hand shaking slightly. He’d spent years perfecting the dish. Now, the words felt like a personal attack.