Gemotions

The morning sun felt like a weight, pressing down on Arthur as he dragged himself out of bed. His limbs felt heavy, and his mind, usually a hive of activity, was a vast, empty plain. He shuffled to the kitchen, the linoleum cold beneath his bare feet. The coffee machine sat mocking him, its potential for energy and focus untouched. It was the same every day, a draining feeling that followed him around like a shadow. He'd been so sure, so convinced that his "Sunbeam Sprayer" was a stroke of genius, a revolutionary way to water crops evenly. Then the patent search had revealed the truth: someone else had beaten him to it.