Gemotions

He’d spent weeks working on the model, sleeping in the lab, fuelled by coffee and desperation. He’d envisioned the prize money, the recognition, the chance to finally escape his dead-end job. Now, the official notification sat in his inbox – a rejection. The reason? "Prior art." He knew what that meant: someone else, years ago, had already patented a similar design.

He slammed his laptop shut, the metallic thud jarring. He felt a pressure building behind his eyes, a familiar ache of frustration. He paced his tiny apartment, his frustration manifesting as an almost involuntary need to destroy something, anything. The thought that someone else got there first was unbearable. He wanted to scream.