Gemotions

The restaurant felt colder somehow. The bright lights seemed to cast long, cruel shadows. He was a laughingstock. The review, a public declaration of failure, had stripped away any sense of pride. He wished he could crawl into a hole.

He could not look at his staff. He felt their silent judgment, their pity. He locked himself in his office, the walls closing in. The thought of facing the kitchen was an unbearable burden.

He had sacrificed everything for this, every waking moment, every drop of sweat. And for what? To be ridiculed? To be deemed unworthy? He slumped in his chair, a man utterly defeated.