Gemotions

The patent application confirmation email stared back at Amelia, mocking her. Her hands, usually steady, trembled as she scrolled through the document again, comparing the claims. Identical. Down to the specific angles of the rotating blades. Her breath hitched, shallow and rapid. She felt a cold sweat prickle her skin, a sensation that spread outwards from her core. Throwing her phone onto the workbench, she began pacing, each step a frenetic burst of energy. “No, no, no,” she muttered, her voice barely a whisper, the words barely forming on her lips. The workshop, once a sanctuary of creativity, now felt like a prison.