Gemotions

"Blasphemy," muttered Jean-Pierre, his French accent thick with disbelief. He tapped the review with a trembling finger. He'd served kings and queens, but this… this was worse than a bad review, this was a personal affront. The critic had lambasted his bouillabaisse as "fishy sludge." His face flushed.

He flung the paper across the kitchen, where it landed near a pot of simmering stock. A cold sweat broke out across his brow. He didn’t know what to do. His hands shook as he reached for a glass of water, his hand missing the glass and spilling onto the pristine white tablecloth. He never made mistakes.