Gemotions

The old notebook lay open on the desk. Amelia traced the faded ink of her sketches. The "automatic pet feeder" - a stolen idea. The original inventor's name, scrawled on the patent application, seared in her memory. She couldn't sleep. She couldn't eat. Her days were a blur of nervous activity, a frantic attempt to outrun the shadow of her actions. The weight of it settled on her like a physical burden, making it hard to breathe, hard to function. She closed the notebook with a snap, the sound echoing in the stillness of her study.