Gemotions

He stared at the documents spread across the conference table, the blood draining from his face. A cold numbness spread through him, starting in his toes and creeping upwards. Mark had thought his presentation was flawless, a guaranteed success. He'd poured his heart and soul into this project, the culmination of years of research. Now, the lead investor's feedback was a verbal smack in the face: "Interesting… but we've seen something remarkably similar."

Mark’s hands, usually steady and precise, trembled slightly. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a few stray strands. The room swam. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and he instinctively gripped the edge of the table to steady himself. He needed to get out, to breathe.

He had built his career on originality. The idea that someone else had not only conceived the same project, but also presented it in a far more polished manner, felt like a personal affront. It was a career-ending situation. He excused himself, his voice strained, and practically fled the room.