Gemotions

The critique, mercilessly honest, lay crumpled on the floor. "A tragedy of textures, a culinary insult," read the review. For Daniel, the master of his domain, the words were a personal affront. He couldn't seem to breathe right. His vision swam.

He slammed his fist on the counter, the force a release of his frustration. He left the restaurant, the empty street offering no comfort. He wandered aimlessly, the city's hustle and bustle a discordant symphony to his despair.

He sat on a bench, head in his hands, feeling utterly lost. The sun set, casting long shadows that mirrored the deep emptiness inside him. He felt like his purpose was gone.