Gemotions

The patent lawyer’s office seemed to shrink. Sunlight, once a welcome presence, now glared, emphasizing the dust motes dancing in the air. Amelia stared at the official document, her hand clamped tight around her lukewarm coffee. The coffee tasted of ash. Her face felt hot, as if someone had slapped her.

“But… but how?” she stammered, her voice a reedy whisper. The lawyer, a kind-faced woman named Ms. Chen, simply shook her head. Across the table, the picture of Amelia’s prototype - a self-folding laundry basket - felt like a betrayal. Years, she thought, years spent refining and perfecting, all for naught.

The shame clawed at her insides. She wanted to disappear, to sink into the plush leather of the chair and be swallowed whole.