Gemotions

The patent lawyer’s office seemed to shrink as Elias listened. His voice, normally a confident baritone, was now a strained whisper. His hands, usually gesturing to emphasize his points, were clasped tightly in his lap, the knuckles white. He’d poured years of his life, his savings, into perfecting the automatic self-folding laundry basket. Now, the lawyer was saying someone else had the same idea, and had it patented a year prior.

His breath hitched. He blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear a persistent film from his eyes. He stammered, “But…but how? It’s… it's practically the perfect solution for the modern home!” The expensive leather chair felt suddenly too hard, too cold.

Elias pushed himself up, his legs shaking slightly. He’d envisioned the headlines, the late-night talk show appearances. Now, the future stretched before him, a vast, empty expanse. The meticulously organized blueprints of his invention on his desk suddenly appeared meaningless.