Gemotions

The restaurant was empty, save for the cleaning crew. Chef Renata leaned against the back door, watching them sweep the floor. The biting critique felt like a physical blow. The critic had condemned her innovative use of local ingredients as “pretentious” and her plating as “uninspired.”

She hadn't slept properly in days. Even now, the exhaustion didn’t seem to touch her. A hollow ache filled her, a feeling of inadequacy that gnawed at her resolve. She felt a weight on her shoulders, like she’d failed everyone: her staff, her patrons, herself.

She slowly began to walk towards the back of the restaurant, where she kept her apron, an everyday necessity that now felt like a burden.