Gemotions

"Again," said the sous chef, his voice crisp. "The béchamel needs more seasoning, Chef." Kai stared at the pot, the creamy sauce simmering on the stovetop. The words blurred into meaningless sounds. He had to keep going, had to maintain his reputation. Yet, all he saw was the critic's dismissive words, the phrases "overcooked risotto" and "uninspired presentation" echoing in his mind.

He picked up the salt shaker, his hand trembling slightly. It was a simple fix, but suddenly the simplest tasks felt monumental. It felt like all the joy had been leached from his job. He stirred the sauce, the motion mechanical, a hollow imitation of his usual focused energy. He was just going through the motions.