Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of Elara’s workshop, mirroring the tempest within her. She stared at the patent rejection letter, the crisp paper a stark contrast to the crumpled sketch of her self-watering planter lying discarded on the workbench. The world she had envisioned, filled with lush, thriving gardens nurtured by her creation, felt impossibly distant now. Her fingers traced the outline of a tear that escaped her eye, leaving a glistening trail down her cheek. The wood of the workbench felt cold against her hands, the chill seeping into her bones.