Gemotions

The review sat on the kitchen counter, a pristine white rectangle amidst the chaos of the morning rush. Chef Antoine picked it up, his hand feeling oddly heavy, as if attached to a lead weight. He scanned the words, each line a fresh stab. His shoulders slumped, the weight in his hand now a crushing burden. He let out a shaky breath, the air in the kitchen suddenly too thick to breathe. "More coffee," he rasped to himself, his voice sounding foreign in his own ears.

He poured himself a cup, the ceramic clattering against the saucer as he tried to steady his trembling hand. The harsh light of the kitchen seemed to intensify the sheen of sweat on his brow. The usual symphony of clanging pots and hurried orders faded into a distant hum. He felt a cold dread creeping into his bones.