Gemotions

The plate of lamb, once a source of pride, now seemed a mockery. Chef Marco stood in the empty dining room, the review in his pocket, a lead weight against his leg. He picked at a piece of the lamb, the meat tasting like ashes in his mouth. He ran his tongue across his teeth, finding his mouth had gone dry. The critic, a woman he'd long admired, had eviscerated his dish. "Overcooked," the review stated. "Devoid of subtlety." He set down the plate and leaned against the counter. He felt a deep hollowness, a void where his usual confidence had resided. The quiet of the restaurant pressed down on him, amplifying the internal turmoil that gnawed at him.