Gemotions

The email pinged again. Another rejection. John slammed his fist on the desk, rattling the already precarious stack of papers. The air felt thick, difficult to breathe. He leaned back in his chair, his chest constricted. He'd poured his heart and soul into the automated dog walker. The research, the prototyping, the late nights. He felt a wave of emptiness wash over him, as though someone had pulled the plug. “Ridiculous,” he said, his voice flat. He pushed himself away from the desk and began to gather his things, the movement jerky and quick.