Gemotions

He slammed the lid shut on the garbage can, the clang echoing in the otherwise quiet street. His jaw clenched, each muscle in his face rigid. He’d seen it again, plastered across a billboard: "Chef Antoine's Provençal Stew," a dish that had taken him years to perfect, a dish he’d even named after his childhood village. It was his signature, before his ex-business partner, Antoine, had run off with the recipe and the investors. He kicked a stray pebble, sending it skittering across the pavement. The metallic taste of anger coated his mouth. He just wanted to be done with it all.