Gemotions

He read the review again, each word a fresh insult. Chef Marco felt a cold wave wash over him, leaving him feeling numb and strangely detached. His carefully cultivated composure was crumbling under the weight of the critic's harsh assessment.

He stood up, and his legs felt weak. He walked into the pantry, and opened a jar of pickles. He ate one, and then another, the sourness doing nothing to dispel the bitterness he felt.

He dropped the jar, and it shattered on the floor. He wanted to feel something, anything. He bent to pick up the pieces, and cut his finger. He watched the blood well, and felt a tiny flicker of satisfaction.