Gemotions

"Uninspired?" Amelia repeated the word aloud, her voice barely a whisper. The article's words seemed to claw at her throat. The critic, a woman whose opinion she'd long respected, had eviscerated her restaurant. Her hands, usually steady and precise, were now trembling so badly she could barely hold her phone.

She felt a wave of nausea. She'd poured her heart and soul into this place. She'd sacrificed everything for her dream. Now? Now she felt like a fraud. She gripped the cold metal of the table she was seated at, knuckles white.

She had to get out, she needed air. She pushed away from the table, a sudden, desperate urge to flee overtaking her. The restaurant's cheerful atmosphere, once a source of pride, now felt like a taunt.