Gemotions

The digital clock on Leo's wall seemed to mock him. 3:00 AM. He'd been up all night, consumed by the news. His automated pizza cutter. Already patented. His blood ran cold.

He sat rigidly in his chair, his gaze fixed on the screen, feeling an unyielding pressure in his temples. He opened his mouth to say something, but only a strangled sound escaped. He felt a surge of heat rush up his neck, and then quickly dissipated.

He pushed back from his desk, the wheels of his chair rolling across the carpet. He wandered to his kitchen and poured a glass of water, his hand shaking. He stood there for a long time, frozen, unable to decide whether to go back to bed or simply get dressed and leave.