Gemotions

He slammed the workshop door shut, the force of it rattling the windows in the adjacent house. Inside, the metal scraps and half-finished projects seemed to mock him. James tossed the patent rejection letter onto the workbench with a resounding thud. His stomach twisted into a knot.

He felt a throbbing pulse in his temples. He’d spent months, fueled by coffee and sheer stubbornness, perfecting his self-watering plant pot, only to find someone else had already patented it. The audacity! He kicked a stray wrench across the floor.

He paced the confines of his small workshop, muttering under his breath. He envisioned the other inventor, probably a corporate giant, reaping the rewards of his hard work. He slammed his fist on the workbench. He needed a drink, a very strong drink.