Gemotions

Chef Antoine gripped the review, the paper crinkling under his fingers. The critic had called his signature dish, the Coq au Vin, “an insult to poultry.” He looked at the empty reservation book. Normally, it was filled a month in advance. Now, a deep unease coiled in his gut. He walked towards the kitchen, his steps heavier than usual. The clatter of pots and pans seemed amplified, each clang a hammer blow to his frayed nerves. He eyed his sous chef, Marco, a man who, until now, had always been affable. Marco met his gaze and quickly averted his eyes, whistling a tuneless melody.