Gemotions

"Blast," sighed Clara, staring at the screen. The patent application confirmation, shimmering with cold digital finality, confirmed what she already suspected. Someone, a faceless competitor, had beaten her to the punch. The concept, hers by right, was now another's.

A wave of profound exhaustion washed over her. She slumped back in her chair, the wheels of which squeaked a protest. Her unfinished coffee sat cold and untouched on her desk. The thought of getting up, of researching the rival’s design, of mounting a legal challenge, was utterly draining.

Her gaze drifted to the window, where the sun warmed the world outside. The thought of sunshine, the idea of doing absolutely nothing, was far more appealing. A yawn escaped her, and she felt the muscles in her face unspooling.