Gemotions

"This can't be real," Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible. The document, printed on cheap paper, seemed to mock her with its official jargon. Her throat felt tight, as if a hand were squeezing it. The patent number – the same as the one she'd slaved over for years, the culmination of all her efforts.

She reread the claims, each sentence a stab to her gut. Every detail. It was exactly what she had designed, how she had designed it. Her knuckles were white as she clutched the document. The air felt heavy, like she was trapped under a mountain of frustration.

She stood abruptly, overturning her chair. It clattered to the floor with a hollow sound. She wanted to scream, to shatter something, anything. Instead, she let out a long, ragged breath and walked to the door.