Gemotions

He slumped onto the park bench, the cold seeping through his threadbare coat. His gaze was fixed on the bustling food truck, "El Jefe's Tacos," the words a mocking neon beacon against the twilight sky. The secret to those tacos, the perfectly balanced blend of spices, was his. Years ago, he had shared it with his unreliable business partner, who had promptly vanished, leaving him with nothing.

He watched the long queue of customers, their faces lit with anticipation. A wave of exhaustion washed over him. His stomach churned with a hunger that had nothing to do with food. The laughter of the people enjoying his creation grated on his ears. He pulled his collar up, burying his chin in the fabric, seeking some semblance of comfort.