Gemotions

The patent lawyer’s office felt cavernous, the silence amplifying the tremor in Elias’s hands. He kept his gaze fixed on the worn leather of his briefcase, meticulously polishing it with the sleeve of his worn jacket. Sweat prickled his neck. He’d poured years, every waking moment, into perfecting his self-cleaning window. And now, the lawyer’s terse email. “Similar device already patented.” His stomach churned.

He cleared his throat, attempting a casual tone. “So…it’s…identical?” The question emerged as a croak. The lawyer, a woman with eyes as sharp as flint, simply nodded, pushing a document across the polished mahogany. Elias reached for it hesitantly. The invention, his life’s work, was already in someone else’s name. He felt a profound sense of…emptiness.