Gemotions

The coffee tasted like ash in his mouth. David stared at the blueprints, the precise lines blurring before his eyes. His "Personalized Language Translator," a device he thought could bridge divides, was now a useless concept. Another company had already filed, years ago, on an almost identical design. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. He'd tried to contact them, to explain the coincidence, the shared vision of human connection. The responses had been dismissive and formal. He couldn't eat. Sleep was a battle. He went outside, the world was too bright, too noisy. He didn't know what to do.