Gemotions

The patent lawyer’s office smelled of old paper and suppressed sighs. Amelia drummed her fingers on the cold, polished table, the sound echoing in the silence. Her prototype, the automatic dog-walking contraption, sat forgotten in its box, gathering dust. The lawyer, a man whose face seemed permanently etched with a weary frown, was explaining, again, how someone else had beaten her to the punch. The information seemed to sink into her skin, prickling it with a familiar discomfort. Amelia bit the inside of her cheek.

"So, they’ve already secured the patent?" she finally managed, her voice tight. The lawyer nodded, the movement slow and deliberate.

A wave of heat surged through her. She wanted to scream, to lash out at the universe for this injustice, but she knew better. Instead, she rose abruptly, knocking over her chair in her haste. The noise grated on her ears. "Thank you for your time," she mumbled, fleeing the room before the lawyer could offer any further condolences.