Gemotions

The critic’s words were a cold, sharp blade. I felt it, not just in my pride, but in my very core. Chef Marco stared at the review. A dull ache settled in his shoulders and a throbbing pain developed in his head. The vibrant colors of his kitchen felt muted.

I barely made it through the morning's prep work. I normally relished the challenge of creating new dishes, but today, each task felt monumental. I moved with a heavy deliberate air, as if wading through waist-deep mud.

The energy that usually fueled me was gone, replaced by a deep-seated inertia. I couldn't focus. Each ingredient seemed to lose its appeal, each flavor a distant echo. I sat down and stared at the wall.