Gemotions

"Amateurish," the review had sneered. He stood in front of the mirror, studying his face. He looked at the lines etched around his eyes, the slight curve of his mouth. Was he amateurish? His hands trembled as he picked up a knife.

He had always been proud of his skill. Now, every movement felt clumsy, inadequate. He sliced an onion, tears stinging his eyes. He didn’t know if it was from the onion or the shame.

He went into the cellar and stared at the wine racks. He reached for a bottle, then stopped. What if it was the wrong vintage? The wrong choice? He turned and left the cellar, empty-handed.