Gemotions

"The chef's ambition exceeds his talent. A dish best left forgotten." That was the sentence that haunted David. He slammed the newspaper onto the table, the action snapping the already frayed nerves of the remaining waitstaff. They swiftly dispersed, leaving him alone.

He stared at the untouched plates on the counter. The vibrant colors of the food seemed to mock him, the creations he'd poured his heart into now meaningless. He felt a deep, profound isolation.

He picked at a piece of bread, the bland taste doing nothing to alleviate the internal emptiness. The restaurant was quiet, except for the hum of the refrigerator. The emptiness of the dining room mirrored the vast expanse within him.