Gemotions

Eliza, head chef at "The Gilded Spoon," clutched the newspaper. Her fingers traced the hateful words about her soufflé. She’d always prided herself on her light-as-air creations. Now, she felt a profound disconnect, as if the world was suddenly out of focus.

She found herself checking the pastry station, then checking it again. Each imperfection seemed to glare back at her. Her usual brisk walk around the kitchen turned to anxious pacing.

“Another order of the duck confit!” one of the servers called out, but she barely registered it. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She’d poured years into this restaurant. How could one person, with a few carefully chosen words, dismantle everything?