Gemotions

He’d poured his soul into the dish, a vibrant paella that sang of his heritage. Now, the critic called it “bland” and “lacking inspiration.” Marco stared at the offending review, the paper crinkling in his fist. The words seemed to mock him, a cruel chorus echoing in his ears.

He couldn't meet his own gaze in the mirror. His usually jovial face was a mask of despair, the corners of his mouth turned downward. His hands, usually so nimble, now felt clumsy and heavy.

He had always dreamt of bringing the flavors of his childhood to the world. Now, he wondered if he was merely a fool, chasing a dream that had turned into a nightmare. He kicked a nearby chair, the wood meeting his foot with a painful thud.