Gemotions

“Uninspired,” the critic had written, and the word cut deeper than any knife. Chef Hiroki stared at the empty space on his cutting board. He’d prepped everything for the lunch rush, but suddenly, the joy of cooking had evaporated.

He moved slowly, each action a chore. The knife felt heavy in his hand. The bright lights of the kitchen seemed harsh, the stainless steel surfaces reflecting his own weary face.

The usual camaraderie with his staff felt strained. He found himself avoiding their eyes, unable to meet their gaze. The energy that usually crackled through the kitchen was absent, replaced by a palpable tension.

He wanted to scream, to lash out, but the emotion settled in his chest, a dull, aching throb.