Gemotions

The bitter taste of coffee did nothing to soothe the ache in Thomas’s chest. He stared at the screen displaying the patented design of the automated dog-walking device. He felt a deep, twisting sadness. He had built his own, a more streamlined and efficient model, but it was too late. The feeling in his gut was a heavy sadness.

His apartment, usually filled with the happy barks of his golden retriever, was silent except for the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it rumpled. Thomas's appetite had vanished, and everything tasted bland. He considered selling his dog.