Gemotions

The critic’s words, “flavorless, forgettable,” buzzed in Chef Kenji’s ears. He wandered aimlessly through the kitchen, the usual organized chaos now a symphony of… nothingness. He slammed his hand against the counter. He felt an intense, vague discomfort. He kicked a stray onion. He opened the walk-in refrigerator, just to stare at the organized rows of ingredients. The vibrant colors of the vegetables seemed dull, the promise of new dishes uninviting. He felt a powerful impulse to escape, to run, to start anew. He found himself staring at the back door.