Gemotions

The review, a venomous serpent of words, lay open on the kitchen counter, its accusations stinging. Chef Antoine slammed the trash can lid. He glared at the gleaming knives hanging above the station, usually a source of comfort. Now, they seemed to mock his failures.

He snatched up a perfectly ripe tomato, slicing it with unnecessary force. The juice splattered, staining his pristine white jacket. A small, almost imperceptible smile curled his lips.

Later that evening, the critic's favorite dish, the delicate sea bass with saffron risotto, was presented. Antoine watched from the pass, a phantom watching a horror movie. He didn't say a word to the server. He just enjoyed the wait.