Gemotions

He folded the review, the glossy paper crinkling under his fingers. The criticism, the negativity, washed over him, but he felt nothing. He wasn't particularly bothered.

Chef Marco had worked his entire life, pouring his soul into his craft. He could taste the salt from the sea, the sweetness of the fruit. He knew every grain of rice, every leaf of herb. He knew what he was capable of. The critic, with their cheap words, were meaningless.

He turned and looked around his restaurant, at the happy diners, their plates empty. He smiled, a flash of white teeth. He hadn't expected to be praised. He'd aimed for something better: connection, impact.

He wasn’t wrong.