Gemotions

A tremor ran through Anya’s fingers as she flipped the page of the magazine. There it was, the sleek design of the solar-powered water purifier, the exact same one she'd spent three years perfecting. The glossy photograph seemed to taunt her with its perfection. She closed her eyes for a moment, the image seared into her eyelids. A knot formed in her stomach, a familiar pressure.

She rose from the worn armchair, pacing the small apartment. The city outside roared, a symphony of progress she wouldn't be part of. She ran her hand through her hair, a nervous gesture she'd adopted over the years, feeling the strands catch on her calloused fingers. Her own drawings, filled with painstaking detail, were now just scraps of paper, lost in a drawer. The taste of failure coated her tongue.