Gemotions

The newspaper lay crumpled on the floor, a casualty of Leo's emotional storm. He paced the narrow kitchen, the floorboards groaning under his restless feet. The harsh assessment, “mediocre, overpriced,” had been a direct blow to his ambition. His mouth was dry, and he kept swallowing, trying to dislodge the feeling of dread clinging to his throat. He glanced at the closed restaurant door, imagining the faces of his regulars. Would they desert him now? He grabbed a bottle of wine, the chilled glass the only thing that felt solid against his trembling hand.