Gemotions

The cheap coffee burned his tongue, but it was the only comfort available. David stared at the prototype, the physical manifestation of his dreams, now tainted, useless. A cold knot twisted in his gut. The other inventor's device, manufactured and sold everywhere, was a perfect copy, and he seethed.

He slammed his fist on the table, rattling the coffee cup. He hated the world, the people in it. He hated the judge and jury in his own head. He hated the man who'd taken his creation. He wanted to break something, to destroy, to feel something other than the crushing weight of defeat.

David stood, pacing the cramped apartment. He clenched and unclenched his hands. He couldn’t afford another coffee. He needed a drink, a strong one. Maybe then, he could quell the fire in his veins. He grabbed his coat, the fabric feeling rough against his skin.