The schematics swam before Elias’s eyes, a beautiful, perfect logic laid bare. He'd done it! Years of late nights, burnt fingers, and near-bankrupt accounts had culminated in this: the auto-stirring tea kettle, capable of brewing the perfect cuppa every single time. He bounced on the balls of his feet, the blueprints practically vibrating in his hands. “Finally!” he crowed, the sound echoing in his small workshop. He grabbed his coat, already formulating a speech for the patent office, his mind racing through the potential applications, the market value, the fame!
Then, a small detail, a tiny, innocuous line of text, caught his eye at the bottom of the patent website: “Patent: Auto-Brewing Kettles, Inc.” A cold dread coiled in his stomach, quickly followed by a sensation of being physically struck. He blinked, willing the words to rearrange themselves, to disappear. But the words stayed, mocking his joyful anticipation.
He slumped into his chair, a sudden weight pressing down on his shoulders. He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. All that work, all that hope, now just a footnote to someone else's success. He ran a hand through his hair, the previous energy abruptly evaporating.