Gemotions

The coffee shop’s usual comforting aroma of roasting beans now made Sarah queasy. She clutched the crumpled napkin in her hand, the ink bleeding from her furious scribbles. The barista, a young man with too-perfect hair, called out her name. “Latte for Sarah?” She almost choked on the hot liquid as she took a seat near the window. Outside, the rain hammered against the glass.

The email from the patent office lay open on her laptop screen. Rejection. The rejection was polite, formal, but the wording felt like a punch. The application for her self-cleaning cat litter box was denied. Apparently, a similar device had been patented two years prior. She hadn't even known it existed.