Gemotions

"Bland. Uninspired. A culinary waste of time." The words from the review were sharp as knives in Chef Kai's mind. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, the usual symphony of clanging pans and shouted orders replaced by a heavy silence. His shoulders slumped, his usual confident posture replaced by a visible weariness.

He watched his sous chef, Marco, expertly fillet a fish, the movements precise and fluid. A familiar surge of pride usually welled up inside him, but today it was absent. He did not issue any instructions. No corrections. He simply observed. He felt a deep desire to retreat into himself, to seek refuge from the external demands.

Kai walked over to the counter, took a bowl, and started stirring something. He didn’t taste it. He didn’t care. His movements were slow, almost hesitant. The ingredients - carrots, potato, celery - were all basic. Safe.