Gemotions

"Predictable." The single word, the final nail in the coffin of Chef Marco’s dreams. His innovative pasta dishes, which he believed to be his magnum opus, were labeled as unoriginal. He crushed the newspaper in his hands.

He retreated to the walk-in refrigerator, the cold air a small solace against the heat of his humiliation. The organized shelves, once a source of pride, now seemed to mock his failure. He stared at the vibrant ingredients, the promise of new creations, but felt no spark of inspiration.

His back ached with the weight of expectation. He should have listened to his instincts, he thought, should have been bolder. He knew he'd let the side down, and he found himself calling his wife. But he couldn't bring himself to talk to her. He hung up immediately.