Gemotions

“Good riddance,” Evelyn muttered under her breath. “The Pasta Palace, gone.” Relief flooded through her, a warm current chasing away the chill of disappointment. She always thought the portions were too small. The owner, a thin man named Marco, had always been so smug, she hated it.

She’d spent years secretly comparing Pasta Palace to other restaurants, compiling her own private list of grievances. Now, she'd get a chance to use them.

Evelyn found herself suddenly filled with a peculiar zeal. She composed a scathing email to Marco, detailing every perceived failing, every drop of dissatisfaction she'd ever experienced. She didn’t even bother to sign it.