Gemotions

The phone buzzed again, this time a text from his sister. "How are you holding up, Ben?" The message felt like a punch. He stared at the screen, the words blurring. He sat in his darkened office, the restaurant's usually lively ambiance replaced with a heavy silence.

He leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking in the stillness. His fingers drummed restlessly on his desk. He found himself avoiding eye contact with his reflection in the window.

He felt the prickle of tears behind his eyelids, something he rarely allowed himself to do. The critic's words echoed in his head, a constant, damning chorus. He considered turning the restaurant into a different business, a different idea. Anything that would alleviate the pressure.