Gemotions

"The specifications align almost exactly," the examiner had informed him, his tone clinical. "You're late to the party, Mr. Jensen." Jonathan’s face flushed hot, his ears ringing. He'd envisioned his automatic pet feeder, a device to streamline the lives of busy pet owners, being his financial freedom.

He retreated to his garage, the space where he'd brought his idea into the world. He started dismantling the prototype, piece by piece, as if erasing the very existence of his creation. His movements were jerky, angry.

He threw the pieces into a bin, kicking it across the floor. The metal clanged against the concrete. It felt satisfying.