Gemotions

The phone vibrated in Chef Javier's pocket, a notification from his agent. He didn't need to look; he knew the headline. His restaurant, once lauded, was now a target. The critic had called his fusion cuisine "confused and derivative." He stared at the setting sun, its orange light reflecting the mess.

He went to the walk-in cooler, the frigid air a shock to his system. Inside, the neatly organized ingredients seemed to mock him. He pulled out some fresh berries, their vibrant color a stark contrast to his mood.

He spent the next hour alone, gently tossing them. He could almost taste his restaurant, which he had worked on for years, being taken from him. He found himself thinking of his family.