Gemotions

The critic’s words, "predictable and safe," echoed in Chef Damien's ears. He sat at his usual table in the corner of his restaurant, the starched white tablecloth reflecting the dim lighting. He picked at the bread roll in front of him, his fingers tracing the pattern on the linen. The usual creative spark, the desire to experiment, had vanished.

He watched the other diners, their faces illuminated in the soft glow of the candles, and realized he didn’t see any potential for criticism, only a great need for approval. He was tired of pushing boundaries, tired of the constant pressure. He ordered the simplest dish on the menu, a grilled chicken with roasted vegetables. He asked the server, her face bright, if the presentation was okay.

The chicken, he barely touched.