Gemotions

The review was pinned to the wall above Leo’s prep station, a constant reminder. But he barely glanced at it. He'd already memorized every cruel word. The kitchen, usually a whirlwind of controlled chaos, was quiet. He felt the tension of the staff, their worried glances. Leo, however, was impervious.

He hummed as he sliced the tomatoes, the perfect symmetry of the cuts mirroring the precision of his mind. He'd already gone over every single course, the flavors dancing in his memory. He'd tasted the critic's favorite dishes and knew what he'd missed. What he didn't *understand*.

He caught the eye of his sous chef, a young man named Marco, and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Marco, too, looked to him, unsure. The smile Leo gave was enough.