Gemotions

He sat in the corner booth of his own restaurant, a glass of water untouched before him. The restaurant was open, but he felt far away. He watched the few customers who came and went, looking at their plates, wondering if they saw the same failures he did.

He barely spoke to his head server, who tried to engage in a friendly conversation. He just nodded, offering the barest of responses. He knew he should be in the kitchen, but he couldn't face it.

He felt the weight of his reputation, the burden of expectation. He felt like a fraud, a pretender. He wanted to vanish, to escape this cruel, relentless world of judgment.