Gemotions

"I'm fine," said Hiroki, his voice flat. He stood in the storage room, away from the prying eyes of his staff. He clutched the review in his hand, the paper crinkling under his tight grip. The air felt thick, heavy with unspoken tension.

He felt the familiar knot in his throat, making it difficult to breathe. The vibrant colors of his kitchen, the lively chatter of his team, all felt distant, unreal. He rubbed his temples, trying to ward off a headache.

His hands shook as he set about organizing the dried spices. Everything seemed pointless, every movement mechanical. He felt a sense of paralysis, as if he could not move or speak. The weight of the criticism had become too much.