Gemotions

The restaurant was a disaster. Bookings were down. The waitstaff avoided him. He sat alone in his office, the crumpled review a permanent fixture on his desk. He refused to answer the phone. He ignored his messages.

He stared at the blank screen of his computer, the weight of the critique pressing down on him. He felt hollow, as though his spirit had been drained. He felt he had nothing to offer.

He imagined the critic, smug and superior, her words like poisoned darts. He closed his eyes, picturing the faces of his staff, their disappointment a crushing blow.