Gemotions

"Disappointing" – the single word from the critic reverberated in Chef Eleanor's mind. She clutched the review, the paper crinkling in her grasp. Her grandmother’s recipe, passed down through generations, had been called “bland and uninspired.”

She went outside, the crisp autumn air offering little solace. The familiar scent of woodsmoke from the chimney was a small comfort, reminding her of the meals cooked by her grandmother.

She stood at the counter, a plate of food waiting for her. She saw one of her regulars entering the restaurant. She wanted to yell at him to leave, but she held back. She knew they all would be depending on her. “Welcome back,” she said, her voice barely audible.