Gemotions

I couldn't breathe. The review, detailing my restaurant's 'culinary crimes,' felt like a personal betrayal. I had spent years, sacrificing everything, to build my dream. And now? Now, I was a joke.

I crumpled the paper in my fist, the sound a small, pathetic explosion in the otherwise silent kitchen. I kicked the trash can, sending it clattering against the wall.

I didn't want to see anyone. I locked myself in my office, the scent of stale coffee and forgotten dreams heavy in the air. I stared at the ceiling, my chest constricted.