Gemotions

“It’s simply not feasible, Mr. Bellwether,” the financier said, adjusting his tie. The temperature in the office seemed to drop, mirroring the chill that had settled in Thomas’s gut. The man gestured dismissively at the blueprints. Thomas swallowed hard. He’d poured years, and all of his savings, into this. “But the market…” Thomas began, his voice barely a whisper. The financier cut him off. “The market doesn’t care about passion, Mr. Bellwether. It cares about profit.” Thomas stared at the drawings, his knuckles white against the paper. He wouldn't let them win. He wouldn't fold. He would find another way.