Gemotions

The blueprints scattered across Elara's workbench looked like a battlefield, torn and stained with coffee. She scrubbed a hand across her face, smearing ink across her cheek. The rejection email from the patent office sat open on her laptop, the words "prior art" and "similar invention" leaping out at her. It was all a cruel joke, wasn't it? After two years of sleepless nights, of sacrificing everything, someone else had already thought of it.

Her stomach churned. She slammed her fist on the table, the sharp *crack* echoing in the otherwise silent workshop. She wanted to scream, to lash out at the universe that seemed determined to mock her efforts.

She got up and paced her small room. Sunlight streamed through the dirty window, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air. The joy that had propelled her for so long had utterly vanished. Now, only a gaping hollowness remained.