Gemotions

The patent denial hung over Leo like a shroud. He sat in his garage workshop, surrounded by the debris of his project, and the smell of solder and burnt plastic. The air was thick with the scent of his defeat. He felt a slow, creeping dread.

He ran his hand along the smooth surface of the engine, his fingers tracing the familiar lines. The engine was everything. It was meant to solve everything. The injustice of it all clawed at him.

He slammed his fist against the engine block, the sound echoing in the confined space. His hand throbbed with pain. The pain offered a brief moment of distraction. He wanted to break something, to destroy something. He wanted to disappear.