Gemotions

The coffee shop was too loud, every clatter of a cup and murmur of conversation a source of irritation. Liam pushed his barely touched cappuccino away. He picked at the corner of a napkin, shredding it slowly. The feeling in his chest was a vise, squeezing the air from his lungs.

It was infuriating. He knew his design was better, more efficient. Yet, the patent belonged to someone else. He'd spent weeks researching, developing the product, and now someone else would take the credit and the profits.

He felt the prickle of sweat on his forehead. He imagined the other inventor, probably some corporate bigwig laughing at his predicament. He balled the napkin into a tight wad.

He stood abruptly, tossing the crumpled paper into the trash. He needed to do something, anything. He had to figure out a plan. The thought, however, brought no relief.