Gemotions

"Identical," the engineer had declared, his voice devoid of any inflection. "Technically, your design is… inferior." Amelia clenched her jaw, the muscles in her face tightening with each word. They said it wasn't about the design, but about the manufacturing process. A process *she* had pioneered.

She found herself, later that evening, aimlessly pacing her apartment. The scent of burnt dinner still lingered, a testament to her distracted mind. She kicked a chair, letting out a frustrated groan. It was just an engineering marvel, a solar-powered charging station for electronic devices, but it felt like a betrayal.

The city lights outside seemed to mock her, glittering and bright, illuminating the success of others. She pulled the curtains shut, plunging the room into darkness.