Gemotions

The clatter of pots and pans usually soothed him. Today, they were just noise. Chef Julian scrubbed furiously at a stainless-steel surface, the metal reflecting his drawn face. He had reread the review a dozen times. Each phrase a needle, each sentence a blow. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drumbeat against his ribs.

He slammed the pan down. It was a dish that he had worked on for months, a dish he considered a masterpiece. Now, it was just… garbage, according to the critic. He felt a wave of nausea, the room spinning slightly.

He leaned against the counter, closing his eyes, and took a deep breath. His hands were shaking. He could almost feel the weight of every lost customer, every empty table.