Gemotions

He ripped the magazine from the rack, the sound loud in the otherwise silent waiting area. "Overpriced and pretentious," the review read, and Chef Javier’s face flushed with anger. He crumpled the glossy paper, the action a violent display of his inner turmoil.

He walked into the kitchen, the usual hive of activity, and the clatter of pans and the shouts of the staff registered as mere background noise. He felt a throbbing ache behind his eyes, a sensation that had become increasingly familiar.

He gestured to the sous chef to take over. He needed to be alone. He walked to the back, into the storage room, and slammed the door shut. He ran his hand over his forehead, trying to clear his head, but his thoughts were a chaotic jumble.