Gemotions

The patent application confirmation sat on Agnes's desk, mocking her. "Improved Self-Folding Laundry Basket." The words swam before her eyes. Some corporate hack, probably in a tie and smelling of expensive cologne, had beaten her to it. She balled the paper up, the crinkle a small, satisfying sound in her otherwise silent workshop.

She marched over to the prototype. The delicate origami folds, the carefully chosen lightweight polymers, all rendered pointless. She slammed her fist against it, the plastic shuddering but not breaking. Good. She’d make it indestructible next time.

"So, what do you think, Agnes?" Bernard, her neighbor and unofficial confidante, poked his head in. He carried a plate of cookies. Agnes didn't want them. "Going to celebrate?"

"Celebrate what, Bernard?" She snapped, not even bothering to turn around. "The triumph of mediocrity?"