Gemotions

He paced the cramped apartment, each step a frantic stomp. Sweat slicked Thomas's palms as he clutched the rejection notice. "No, no, no," he muttered, his voice cracking. The patent office. They couldn’t understand. This device, this incredible breakthrough, was *his*. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands catching on his agitated fingers. He ripped at the paper, the sound sharp and violent in the otherwise silent room. He crumpled it and threw it, missing the trash can by a mile. He felt as if his chest were being squeezed by an invisible hand.