Gemotions

A tremor ran through Amelia as she stared at the email, the rejection official. That damnable water filtration system, the one she'd spent years perfecting, was already patented. Someone else, some lucky, well-connected person, had scooped her. Her jaw clenched so tight her teeth ached.

She crumpled the email and tossed it into the overflowing trash bin. The smell of old coffee and despair filled her nostrils. She wanted to scream. She wanted to break something.

She ran a hand through her hair, her scalp prickling. She pictured the inventor, probably some trust-fund kid, flaunting their success. She’d show them. She would. She’d find a flaw, a weakness, and she'd exploit it.