Gemotions

"Bloody hell," Leo muttered, dropping the review onto the stainless steel counter. His hands were shaking slightly. He’d spent years perfecting his signature dish, the one the critic had savaged. "Bland…lacking creativity…" The words felt like tiny needles pricking his skin.

He picked at a stray piece of parsley, his appetite vanished. He’d skipped lunch, too caught up in the evening’s preparations. Now, all he craved was to disappear, to vanish into thin air. He ran a hand through his hair, the familiar gesture doing little to soothe his mounting agitation.

Leo threw the parsley away, the gesture abrupt. He turned away from the review, trying to distract himself by scrubbing a pot, the metallic clang a futile attempt to drown out the internal roar. He knew he should start prepping for tomorrow, but the energy had drained from him, leaving him feeling utterly depleted.