Gemotions

The smell of stale coffee and desperation permeated the small, cluttered office. David ran a hand through his already messy hair, the gesture conveying his utter depletion. Another day, another crushing disappointment. His automatic ice cream cone wrapper? Someone else’s idea. He felt as if the air was thick.

He stared at the blank whiteboard, the once-promising ideas now just smudges of dry-erase marker. He felt his eyelids droop as he sank into his chair. He had nothing left, he thought, just the endless cycle of innovation and, always, failure.