Gemotions

He couldn’t sleep. Mark tossed and turned, the sheets tangled around his legs. The faint glow of the city lights filtered through his blinds. The patent application, the months of anticipation, all of it turned into ashes.

He got out of bed, unable to bear the confines of the room any longer. He went to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water, the cool liquid doing nothing to soothe the heat that burned in his core.

He paced the living room, replaying the moment he learned the news. He wanted to shout, smash something. The other inventor, he pictured the man, laughing at his disappointment.

The floorboards creaked under his feet, each sound amplified in the stillness of the night. Sleep remained elusive, replaced by a growing sense of frustration and anger.