Gemotions

The rejection letter crackled in Eleanor’s hands. The words swam before her eyes: *...previously patented...similar construction...incompatible...* She crumpled the paper, the sound a small explosion in the quiet kitchen. She imagined the smug inventor, sipping tea in his well-appointed laboratory, probably gloating. Eleanor walked to the window. Outside, the rain lashed at the glass, mirroring the fury that boiled within her. She would refine it, improve it. She would make it work. She would prove them all wrong.