Gemotions

He stared at the man across the boardroom table, a knot forming in his stomach. The investors, once brimming with enthusiasm, were now politely noncommittal. His self-cleaning pet feeder, the product of countless hours, was a commercial impossibility. The other guy had patented it first. The room felt suddenly cold, the polished wood of the table reflecting the hollowness in his own expression.

He stood, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere. He walked with a slight wobble, as if he couldn’t quite control his own limbs. He had always been so sure of himself, so certain of his vision. Now, the confidence was gone, replaced by a deep well of despair.