Gemotions

The patent denial was a physical blow, a punch to the gut. The world swam before Eleanor's eyes, and she slumped back against the chair. That damn automatic book-sorting machine. Someone else had claimed it. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic rhythm.

She got to her feet, her hands trembling. She needed to get out, to escape the confines of the room, to escape the suffocating feeling. She yanked open the door and stepped outside, the cool air doing little to soothe the raging storm within. She walked, each step heavy, each breath shallow.