Gemotions

He paced the length of his tiny workshop, muttering under his breath. The blueprints of his revolutionary engine design lay scattered across the workbench, now rendered useless. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he kept running his hands through his unkempt hair. He felt a thrumming in his temples, a pressure that was steadily increasing. Every bolt, every gear, every meticulously calculated angle, someone else had already claimed. “Impossible,” he finally choked out, his voice a strained whisper, before letting out a long sigh.