Gemotions

Chef Antoine stared at the review, the newsprint smudged under his fingertip. "A culinary wasteland," the critic had written. He sighed, the sound heavy in the dim kitchen. The thought of starting again, of crafting something new, something *better* – it felt monumental, a mountain he couldn't bring himself to climb. He pushed the plate away with a grunt. He'd poured too much salt into the sauce.

He slumped onto a stool, the cool ceramic a welcome contrast to his flushed face. The bustling city outside seemed miles away. He considered calling in sick. He could just… not. The thought brought a small, shameful smile to his lips.

The phone buzzed. It was his sous chef. "Antoine, are you coming in? We're behind." He debated ignoring it, letting it ring. Maybe someone else could handle the mess.