Gemotions

He had to get out, he needed to walk. The walls of his apartment were closing in. The rejection letter from the patent office lay on the kitchen table, a crisp, official document. Its words, cold and clinical, echoed in his mind. He pulled on his jacket, the familiar weight a small comfort. Outside, the city thrummed, a constant reminder of the world’s indifference to his disappointment. He started walking, his pace quickening, trying to outrun the feeling that had settled deep in his bones.