Gemotions

The kitchen, usually a symphony of organized chaos, felt alien, the clatter of pots and pans suddenly grating on Elias's nerves. The review, a venomous indictment of his new menu, lay crumpled on the counter. He felt an icy grip tighten around his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs.

He barked an order, his voice harsher than he intended. The sous chef flinched. He regretted it instantly. His hands were shaking so badly that he spilled some sauce.

He grabbed his coat and bolted, needing to get out, needing to be away from the judging eyes of his crew. The city outside, a place he usually found inspiring, felt oppressive. The pressure mounted.