Gemotions

The review was a dagger, straight to the heart. “Amateurish. Uninspired. A waste of time.” Jean crumpled the paper in his fist, the sharp edges digging into his palm. He stood alone in the back alley, the cold seeping through his thin coat.

He kicked a stray can across the pavement, the metallic clang echoing the hollowness inside. The city’s noise was a wall around him, a constant reminder of the multitude of lives that were not his own.

He pulled out a cigarette, the flame a small point of light against the oppressive darkness. The smoke tasted bitter. He had poured his heart and soul into the restaurant, only to feel utterly adrift, disconnected from a world that seemed to move on without him.