Gemotions

The phone rang again. It had been ringing all morning. Chef David let it go to voicemail. He’d read the review. He knew what they wanted. He didn't want to talk to anyone.

He sat at the scarred wooden table in his office, the restaurant's books spread before him. The critic had called his restaurant "a cliché," his food "forgettable." The thought that his life's work was insignificant had taken a stronghold in his mind.

He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. He felt drained, empty. He had built this place from nothing, brick by brick. Now, it felt like it was all falling apart.

He should answer the phone, deal with the questions, reassure everyone. He didn't. He closed his eyes, thinking only of what needed to be done later.