Gemotions

The leather chair creaked as Arthur leaned back, his eyes tracing the intricate lines of the patent application. A yawn escaped him, the sound of it like a sigh. He had dreamt of this day, the culmination of years spent perfecting his automated farming system. Then the news arrived: a pre-existing patent, a competitor's claim, dashed his aspirations.

He ran a hand over his face, feeling the stubble of a neglected beard. The office felt stifling, the air thick with unspoken disappointment. He glanced at the clock; it seemed to be ticking in slow motion. He felt his eyelids begin to droop. He wanted to close them for a moment, to shut out the world.

The legal jargon on the document seemed to swim before him. He needed to find a way to navigate this mess, but his brain felt as though it was filled with cotton.