Gemotions

The aroma of burning toast filled the apartment. Chef Javier had been trying to make breakfast, but his mind was elsewhere. He’d barely slept all night, haunted by the brutal criticism. He flicked at the toaster with a spatula, his movements jerky and uncoordinated.

He was a perfectionist, and the review had exposed his flaws to the world. A wave of shame washed over him, making his cheeks burn. He didn't know what to do with himself.

He gave up on the toast, and went back to reading the review. Each sentence was a fresh jab, a new source of pain. He threw the newspaper across the room.