Gemotions

The sunlight streamed into the cramped attic room, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. John's jaw was clenched. He ran a hand through his hair, the strands catching on the rough stubble of his beard. His revolutionary cleaning drone, able to navigate the tightest spaces, was ready. And someone else had already patented something similar. He started pacing, his footsteps echoing in the silence. He muttered to himself, a low stream of frustrated curses, then stopped abruptly, a thought flashing in his eyes. He had to think bigger.