Gemotions

The echo of the music, usually a comfort in the home, was making things worse. His self-playing guitar, a project meant to bring joy, was now a cruel reminder. Another company had patented something almost identical, rendering his creation worthless. He felt a deep sense of… something he couldn't articulate.

He tossed the guitar pick onto the table. It seemed to roll slowly and come to a stop. He walked to the window, and gazed out at the street. The trees swayed in the breeze, the light reflecting off the shiny cars.

He found himself wanting to disappear. He felt the ache in his chest, and wished for the day to end.