Gemotions

Chef Antoine twirled a strand of spaghetti around his fork, the motion entirely unconscious. The restaurant was practically empty, a Tuesday night lull hanging thick in the air. He hadn't touched a new recipe in weeks; the same menu, the same weary faces of the regulars. He sighed, the sound lost in the cavernous space. The harsh review from Monsieur Dubois – “pedestrian pasta, a culinary dirge” – echoed in his head, a relentless, irritating melody. He felt a profound sense of… emptiness. He needed something, *anything* to spark a flame in his culinary spirit again. He picked at the spaghetti listlessly, the sauce clinging to the plate like a forgotten memory.