Gemotions

“Amateurish,” the critic had declared, and the word echoed in Chef Leo’s ears. He stood motionless at the back door of his restaurant, the alleyway smelling of stale trash and rain. The usual lively buzz of the early dinner service felt distant.

He wanted to run, to escape the harsh reality of the review. The once-enticing smells of his own kitchen had become a source of irritation. He pulled his collar up, the chill air doing little to soothe the cold knot that was forming in his stomach.

He felt a sudden, overwhelming weariness, a desire to simply… stop. His legs were heavy, and he found it difficult to breathe. The restaurant was a place he should love. Today, though, it felt like a burden.