Gemotions

The newspaper lay crumpled on the counter, the headline screaming its judgment. Leo sat on a bar stool, the chrome cold against his skin. His usual bustling bar was quiet, customers likely scared off by the scathing review. He nursed a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling aimlessly.

The weight in his head was immense, making it difficult to even think. He felt the familiar throb behind his temples, a physical manifestation of his inner state. The bartender, a young woman named Chloe, offered a sympathetic glance. He tried to offer a smile, but his lips felt stiff, incapable of the gesture.

He remembered all the late nights, the sacrifices, the years of struggling to make his restaurant a success. And for what? To be torn apart in a few scathing paragraphs. The world felt out of focus, the edges blurred.