Gemotions

The critic’s assessment, a cruel and efficient takedown, hung in the air like a noxious gas. "A misguided venture," they'd written, and Chef Yusef's shoulders slumped. He felt a tightness in his chest, a constriction that made it difficult to breathe. He grabbed his coat, a futile attempt to ward off the chill that had settled over him.

He wandered through the empty dining room, the elegant tables and plush chairs now seeming to mock him. He picked up a wine glass, turning it over in his hand, and stared at the empty space. His hands were shaking.

He needed to escape, even if just for a moment. He walked out the back door and stepped into the alley. He leaned against the brick wall, the rough texture a grounding presence. The future was uncertain.