Gemotions

The restaurant was empty. Chef Lena sat alone at a table, the crumpled review a testament to her failure. The critic had called her concept "derivative." Her concept. Her vision.

She ran her hand through her hair, tangling the strands. She'd envisioned success, accolades, and recognition. Now, she felt like a fraud. She’d put everything into this restaurant.

She stared out the window, at the dark street. The reflection of her face was a stranger. She felt a knot in her stomach. She hadn't eaten all day.