Gemotions

The kitchen was spotless, too spotless. Every surface gleamed, a sterile environment reflecting his discontent. He hadn't cooked in days. The vibrant chaos, the controlled pandemonium of the rush, was now a distant memory. He felt a sense of paralysis, an inability to move forward, a constant, gnawing dissatisfaction.

He pulled out the critic’s review and tore it into small pieces, but the words were still there, etched in his mind, ready to haunt him. He threw the pieces in the trash, but he knew they would stay.