Gemotions

The email landed with a thud in Chef Isabella's inbox. The review. She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the mouse. Finally, with a sigh, she clicked. The words, cruel and precise, jumped out at her. Disappointment washed over her, a deep tide of fatigue.

Her movements were slow, her steps leaden as she entered the restaurant. Even the bright atmosphere that usually invigorated her seemed dull. Everything felt like too much effort. She found herself wanting to take a seat, to simply stop.

She felt a resistance to every task, a dragging sensation that slowed her progress. The usual flurry of activity in the kitchen seemed distant, almost unreal, as if viewed through a thick pane of glass.