Gemotions

The air in the garage hung thick with the metallic scent of solder and the faint ozone tang of electricity. Miles surveyed his invention, a self-steering bicycle, with something like a physical ache in his chest. He reached out, his hand hovering over the gleaming chrome handlebars, a feeling of near-palpable excitement flowing through him.

He was sure he was going to receive his patent. He’d poured all his savings into this, sacrificed weekends, friendships, everything. Then, his phone buzzed. A notification. A patent denial. But his mind was already turning, devising new strategies, modifications. He had to build, he had to create.