Gemotions

He paced the cramped apartment, the worn floorboards groaning under his weight. Leo reread the email, each word a cruel jab. *Patent Rejected: Duplication of Existing Design - "The Auto-Brew"*. His Auto-Brew! He’d poured his soul, his savings, his *everything* into perfecting a coffee machine that would practically make itself. A wave of frustration washed over him, tightening his chest. He felt… restless.

He needed to do something, anything. He ripped off his tie and flung it onto the sofa. His heart hammered against his ribs. He felt a need to move, to be in action.

The scent of burnt coffee, a byproduct of a recent, frenetic tinkering session, hung in the air. He strode over to the Auto-Brew, its complex array of pipes and gears mocking his aspirations. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that did little to calm the tremor in his hands. He grabbed a screwdriver and started disassembling the device, the rhythmic click of the tool a strange comfort.