Gemotions

The smell of stale coffee and unsold pastries permeated the small bakery. Chef Leo slumped against the counter, his usual jovial spirit extinguished by the critic's scathing assessment of his croissants: "lacking luster, a doughy disappointment." He pushed his hat back on his head, a gesture of absent-mindedness. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, feeling a palpable lack of interest in everything. He felt a sort of… hollow feeling. He hadn't felt inspired in ages. He glanced at the untouched sourdough starter, the bubbling a constant reminder of his stagnation. He needed something, a challenge. He felt like he was running in place.