Gemotions

The vibrant colors of the food truck's logo mocked him. "Chef Remy's Rustic Risotto." The recipe he'd poured his heart and soul into, the recipe that had helped him survive. The very thought of it sent a shiver down his spine. The air felt thin, like he was gasping for oxygen.

He'd built his business from nothing, scraping by, always striving to improve, to make his mark. He relied on the food truck to survive. He felt a desperate need to not disappoint. He felt frozen, unable to think straight.

The truck's engine rumbled to life. He watched, numb, as the rival truck pulled away, already heading to its lunchtime destination. He felt a crushing weight of insignificance, as though his hard work, his dreams, were being trampled beneath tires. He slowly started working, knowing he had to keep going.