Gemotions

A wave of heat crashed over Marcus, a fiery tide he hadn't anticipated. He’d driven across the state, his excitement peaking, only to have it ripped away in the cold, corporate waiting room of the tech giant. The receptionist, all smooth movements and practiced smiles, had just delivered the verdict with practiced indifference. He hadn't expected to be the first, not after years of tireless work in his garage, fueled by ramen noodles and stubborn belief. The official, who identified himself as “Legal,” hadn't even looked up from the screen as he’d delivered the rejection. "We have a similar patent," he’d droned. Now, back in his car, parked in the gravel lot, Marcus slammed his fist against the steering wheel. The metallic clang echoed in the sudden silence. He felt as if the air had been drained from the tires and all his hopes had been deflated.