Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of Le Petit Cochon, mirroring the tempest brewing inside Chef Antoine. He stared at the damning review, the critic’s words a physical weight in his chest. His shoulders slumped, and he felt a profound weariness settle over him, a heavy cloak he couldn't shrug off. He pushed away from the counter, the movement slow and deliberate, each step feeling like wading through thick mud. He walked to the back, to the walk-in, and stared at the gleaming, organized ingredients. The vibrant colors of fresh produce, usually a source of joy, now seemed muted, their vitality dimmed.