Gemotions

“Another scotch?” The bartender's voice was a blurry echo in the dim light of the pub. David just nodded. The amber liquid tasted like ash on his tongue. He'd been so sure, so certain that his automated cocktail shaker would revolutionize the bar industry. Someone else, a slick operator with deep pockets, had stolen his thunder. He felt the familiar pressure building behind his eyes.

He watched the other patrons laughing and talking, their lives seemingly unaffected by the crushing weight of his failure. He took another long swallow. The ice in his glass clinked softly. He imagined them, the successful inventor and his team, laughing at his dream. He ordered another drink.