Gemotions

The morning sun streamed through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air as Thomas admired his creation: a self-stirring soup pot. He'd spent months perfecting it. He could barely contain his glee. He felt a light, airy feeling in his chest. He imagined the ease it would bring to home cooks everywhere. He pictured a world where no one would ever have to stir soup again.

He typed in the patent application details with a flourish. His fingers flew across the keyboard. A jarring alert: "Patent denied. Similar invention already exists." The air seemed to thicken. The room shrank. The soup pot, once a symbol of his ambition, now seemed heavy and useless.