Gemotions

The review was a death sentence. "A pale imitation," the critic had written, "of the once-great Chef Giovanni." Chef Giovanni had closed his restaurant. He felt the weight of the name, the legacy he had inherited, crushing him.

He was sitting in the corner of his now-empty dining room, watching the sun set. He thought of his grandfather, the original Chef Giovanni, whose portrait hung on the wall. He couldn't seem to make people care, even though he knew he had the talent.

He picked up the newspaper and read the words over again. "Uninspired," "lacking," and the final judgement, "a disgrace to the family name." He felt a bitter taste in his mouth. He felt the crushing weight of his failure.

He had promised his family he would keep the restaurant going. He leaned back in his chair, and looked at the door. He was defeated. He stood up and gathered his coat, with nothing more to do here.