Gemotions

She threw the blueprints across the room, a tangle of paper hitting the far wall and falling to the floor. "It's impossible!" she yelled, her voice raspy, raw. Sweat slicked Maya's forehead, pasting strands of hair to her skin. The workshop air felt thick, stagnant, the metallic scent of solder and forgotten projects a constant reminder of her failures. She’d sunk everything into the self-folding laundry hamper – her savings, her time, her entire sense of purpose. Finding out someone else had already patented the design had left her feeling like she’d been punched in the gut. Now, she just wanted to get away, to disappear.