Gemotions

"Mr. Peterson?" The receptionist’s voice, chirping with polite indifference, sliced through the already tense atmosphere. David, clutching the portfolio containing his prototype, forced a smile. He'd imagined the presentation, the excitement, the validation. Now, the meeting with the investors felt like an execution.

He followed the receptionist down a long hallway, the polished floor reflecting his own hesitant steps. The air in the boardroom was thick with anticipation, and something else… a sense of impending doom. He felt a deep desire to turn around and run. The discovery of the pre-existing patent had left him feeling like a fraud.