Gemotions

The phone wouldn’t stop ringing. Chef Javier refused to answer it. He knew it was reporters, customers, trying to get a word. He hid in the walk-in, the cold air a temporary refuge from the suffocating pressure. He wanted to go home.

He closed his eyes, picturing his grandmother’s kitchen, the comforting aroma of her cooking. That was a long time ago. He felt something start to tremble. He held his arms tight.

He opened his eyes. He heard the kitchen staff. He had to get out. He straightened himself.