Gemotions

The review, a venomous and public takedown of Chef Kenji's ramen, felt like a personal attack. His hands, usually steady, now trembled as he read it. His breath came in shallow, rapid pants. He gripped the edge of the table, as if to keep himself from falling.

He needed space, a place to think. He went out to the back and sat in the storage shed, surrounded by boxes of supplies. He focused on his breath, trying to calm the storm within. The shed felt close, the walls pressing in on him.

He felt a deep sense of vulnerability, a fear of failure that threatened to engulf him. He wanted to run, to hide, to escape the crushing weight of the criticism. He sat there, paralyzed by the feeling.