Gemotions

A feeling of intense frustration warred with a strange, giddy lightness. His sonic toothbrush – the one he’d labored over for two years! – already existed, courtesy of a company owned by a Mr. Alistair Finch. He'd even seen an interview with him, Finch was a silver-haired genius. He could feel the familiar pull of admiration mixed with the sting of disappointment.

He immediately Googled Finch. The search results were extensive. Photos of him receiving awards, interviews, even a cooking blog! Each piece of information felt like a treasure. He printed them all out, arranging them on his desk.

He'd figure out how to contact him. He'd write a letter, maybe offer to invest. No, that wouldn't work. He'd offer his services as an engineer. He would, he *had* to, speak to Finch. He was ready to devote himself to learning from the great man.