Gemotions

She slammed the newspaper onto the table, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. Amelia, the chef, stared at the review. The critic had called her signature dish, the lavender-infused duck confit, "an over-ambitious disaster." A wave of nausea washed over her. She pushed herself away from the table and went straight for the couch.

It had been a long, hard climb to get where she was, to open her own restaurant. Now, all her hard work felt wasted. The world outside seemed so bright, so full of possibilities, but she remained motionless, staring up at the ceiling. The apartment was tidy, almost unnervingly so. Amelia felt as though something heavy had settled in her chest and made it hard to breathe, hard to move. All she wanted was to disappear.