Gemotions

The review was pinned to the bulletin board in the kitchen, a constant reminder. Chef Anya avoided looking at it, but it was always in the periphery of her vision. “Inconsistent,” it had declared, “a culinary roller coaster.” She felt the familiar knot in her stomach tighten.

She grabbed a damp cloth and wiped down the stainless steel countertops. Then she did it again. And again. She needed order. She needed control.

She barked out orders to her staff, her voice sharp and precise. Every ingredient must be measured to the gram. Every sauce must be emulsified perfectly. The smallest deviation would not be tolerated.