Gemotions

The critic’s words, sharp and cutting, echoed in Amelia’s mind as she stared at the empty pastry display case. “A desecration of the art form,” the review had proclaimed, comparing her creations to “soggy cardboard.” She had poured her heart into her bakery, her days and nights consumed by baking. Now, she felt a profound sense of failure.

She mechanically wiped down the counter, the rhythmic motion a desperate attempt to find some anchor. She looked at her reflection in the glass: eyes red-rimmed and filled with emptiness. Her phone buzzed; a cancellation. Then another.

She wandered to the back and ran water for coffee, then just stood there, staring out the window, watching the rain streak down the glass, blurring the outside world. She felt like everything she touched was turning to ashes.