Gemotions

“Overcooked, under-seasoned, and utterly devoid of imagination.” That's all he could think about. He could almost hear the critic’s disdainful voice echoing in his head. The words followed him everywhere.

He'd spent the entire day in his small, cluttered apartment, unable to leave. He sat hunched over his notebook, staring at the recipes he had painstakingly written over the years, each one now tainted by doubt. The once vibrant inks seemed faded, dull.

He tried to eat something, anything, but found he had no appetite. The food sat on his plate, untouched. He felt a profound hollowness inside him, a vacuum that no amount of food could fill. He tossed his dinner in the trash.