Gemotions

The critic’s venomous assessment, "a culinary wasteland," had cost him everything. He now sat on a bench, the bustling city life passing him by, unnoticed. His hands, once accustomed to the precision of a chef's knife, were now idle, resting in his lap. The familiar ache in his jaw grew worse with each passing minute.

He watched a street vendor selling hot dogs, the aroma, which once used to fill his with joy, now repulsed him. He imagined what the critic would say, and the image made him want to vomit.