Gemotions

The patent lawyer’s office seemed to shrink. Sunlight, once welcome, now glared off the polished mahogany table, highlighting every tiny imperfection in the wood grain. He felt his face flush, a heat spreading from his neck up to his temples. He gripped the edge of the chair, knuckles white, as the lawyer patiently explained the prior art. His voice, usually steady, cracked when he tried to interject, the words catching in his throat. He’d poured years, and all his savings, into this prototype.