Gemotions

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the small workshop. Amelia ran a hand through her messy bun, the early morning light catching the dust motes dancing in the air. Her fingers danced over the schematics, a familiar rhythm. The news had been delivered by a curt email hours ago. Someone else had the patent for her self-stirring spoon. Damn. But their design… it looked like something from the Stone Age. Hers was sleek, elegant, and whisper-quiet.

She grabbed a thick marker and circled a series of intricate lines on the blueprint. A slow, steady smile spread across her face. This was just the beginning.