Gemotions

Chef Anya, usually vibrant and energetic, felt her usual buoyancy evaporate. The critic's pronouncements, a savage demolition of her years of work, resonated in her mind. Her chest felt tight, her breathing shallow.

She walked through the kitchen, the once-familiar sounds of chopping and sizzling now grating on her nerves. The staff, normally a source of pride, seemed to be avoiding her gaze. She could almost feel their pity.

She sat heavily at a table, her hands clenched on the tablecloth. The thought of facing the next service, of having to pretend, of smiling through the humiliation, was almost unbearable.