The patent application confirmation sat on the table, a stark white rectangle mocking Elias. His hands, suddenly heavy, seemed barely capable of lifting it. He stared at the name, 'Tech Solutions Inc.', then back at his own blueprint. Identical. He swallowed hard, a dry, rasping sound in the echoing silence of his workshop. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging a cloud of sawdust. The workshop, usually a source of comfort, felt suffocating. He backed away from the table, his heart hammering against his ribs.
His breath hitched as he stumbled over a stray piece of wood. He needed air. He jammed his hands into his pockets, fingers digging into the worn fabric, and bolted for the back door. Outside, the familiar scent of pine offered no solace. The woods, normally calming, now seemed to press in on him, the shadows of the trees twisting into menacing shapes.
He paced a narrow circle, the dirt path under his worn boots becoming the only constant. His mind raced, replaying every step of the invention process, every design choice, the way he'd come up with the idea in the shower, the way it just felt so right. Was it a coincidence? He clamped down, refusing to entertain the thought.