Gemotions

"Another one," he muttered, his voice raspy from disuse. He was hunched over the computer, scrolling through endless online reviews. Every other post was praising "Mama Rosa's Pasta Carbonara," a dish that had once been his. He’d taught his cousin, Rosa, the recipe years ago, when she was down on her luck. Now, Rosa's restaurant was a sensation, while he was… what? A ghost in his own life?

He rubbed his temples, a dull headache thrumming. The constant stream of positive feedback felt like a personal affront. His apartment felt small and suffocating, the stale air thick with a sense of futility. He finally shut down the computer. The silence, however, was worse.