Gemotions

The workshop felt oppressively hot, the air thick with the metallic tang of solder and the faint scent of burning plastic. Elias stared at the schematic, the lines blurring before his eyes. He’d poured years into this, painstakingly crafting the self-sealing tire, a concept he’d believed was revolutionary. Now, the patent number, printed in bold on the official document, mocked him. He traced the number with a calloused finger, his stomach churning. He should have researched more diligently, should have been smarter. He kicked a stray wrench across the concrete floor, the clang echoing in the cavernous space.