Gemotions

The patent lawyer’s words echoed in Elias’s ears. “The concept is already protected, Mr. Thorne. You'll need to abandon your efforts.” Elias gripped the worn leather of his workshop chair, knuckles white. The blueprints, meticulously drawn over months, felt like ashes in his hands. He pushed back from the table, the screech of the chair legs against the concrete floor a jarring sound in the quiet space. The model of the automated greenhouse he’d poured his heart and savings into sat gathering dust in the corner. He reached for his hammer, his hand trembling slightly.

He slammed the hammer against the workbench, the wood groaning in protest. A shard of wood flew off. His jaw tightened. He wasn’t going to back down. He grabbed a fresh sheet of paper and began sketching, ideas spilling out of him, new angles, improvements, a whole different approach. He would find a way.