Gemotions

He hadn't slept. Chef Rhys sat at the small table in his apartment, the crumpled review illuminated by the harsh glare of the kitchen light. He looked at the clock, the red numbers mocking him. He had stared at the ceiling for hours.

He felt a deep sense of frustration. He had sacrificed everything for this, every waking moment devoted to his craft. He rubbed his eyes, the lids heavy and tired. He felt the sting of tears, unwanted and unwelcome.

He pushed the review aside, unable to look at it any longer. He got up and began to pace the small apartment, his movements restless and agitated.