Gemotions

"Disappointing," the critic had declared. The word echoed in Marco’s mind as he moved, a leaden weight in his chest. He took a sip of his coffee, but the bitterness did nothing to rouse him. He stared at the empty tables, the quiet hum of the restaurant usually invigorating, now depressing. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration that seemed to take more effort than usual. He thought about canceling the lunch service altogether, but the thought was too hard to even articulate. He just wanted to go home and sleep for a week.