Gemotions

The coffee cup trembled in Daniel's hand, the lukewarm liquid sloshing over the rim and staining the pristine white tablecloth. He stared at the patent number on the screen, a number that wasn't *his*. His stomach churned. The restaurant’s chatter, the clinking of silverware, the murmur of conversations, all seemed distant, muted, as if he were listening through a thick wall. He'd poured his heart and soul, and every penny, into this, believing his self-cleaning window was a stroke of genius. He’d imagined the accolades, the financial freedom. Now, he just felt…small. He excused himself, abruptly leaving the untouched lunch and the disapproving stares of his investors.