Gemotions

He threw the magazine across the room, the glossy pages scattering. Chef David paced the small confines of his office, his chest constricted. The critic had called his signature dish, the one he'd spent months perfecting, "an abomination." He couldn’t even bring himself to pick up the review again.

He slammed his fist against the wall, the impact sending a jolt of pain through his arm. He needed to get away, to clear his head, but every direction seemed to lead to another dead end. He felt like he was trapped in a box.

His breath came in short, shallow gasps. He started to pull at his collar, as if the air itself was too thick, too heavy to breathe. He felt a mounting sense of dread, a sinking feeling that he would never be able to regain control.