Gemotions

Thomas slammed his fist on the table, making the glasses jump. His face was a mask of controlled fury, but his voice was a low growl. The email, with its official-looking header, was the final nail in the coffin. He'd poured his life savings into this project. And now, the fruits of his labor were being stolen.

He stood up, his chair scraping loudly across the wooden floor. He walked to the window and stared at the setting sun, its vibrant colors doing nothing to soothe his tempestuous mood. His fists clenched and unclenched.

He wanted to go back and undo the last five years. All the work, the effort, the sleepless nights, and the crushing rejection. Now, someone else was going to get his reward. The feeling was horrible. He grabbed his keys and left.