Gemotions

From his perch on the deck, overlooking the ocean, Marco watched the sunset bleed across the sky, painting the clouds in fiery hues. The gentle breeze carried the scent of salt and the distant cries of seagulls. He'd spent the afternoon perfecting the preparation for his signature dish of grilled octopus. The guests at the seaside restaurant were delighted. He felt at peace. The rhythmic crashing of the waves was a constant, soothing companion.

A waiter approached, bearing a small, sealed envelope. Inside, the critic's verdict. "Rubbery… over-seasoned… a culinary catastrophe." The colours in the sky seemed to dim, the sound of the waves turning into a relentless roar in his ears. He stared out at the ocean, his gaze now clouded, the peace shattered.