Gemotions

“Well, *that’s* a coincidence,” Arthur drawled, leaning back in his chair. Across the table, his lawyer, a dour woman named Ms. Davies, looked distinctly unamused. Arthur’s revolutionary automatic dog-walking device was, according to the patent office, already patented. He drummed his fingers on the pristine mahogany surface.

“It seems someone beat you to it,” Ms. Davies said, her voice dry.

Arthur chuckled, a sound devoid of mirth. He steepled his fingers. He had invested so much in this and it looked like his work was nothing more than an imitation. He knew his design was better, though. He’d made it more elegant, more streamlined. They’d just done a poorer job. He saw their inevitable failure in his mind's eye.