Gemotions

Agnes slammed the blueprints down on the table, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent workshop. Her breath hitched, a thin, angry gasp. That fool, Bartholomew Finch, had the audacity! He’d stolen it, word for word, mechanism for mechanism. She pictured his smug face, the way his lips curved in that condescending smirk.

Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms. She would make him regret this. He thought he could just waltz in and take her ideas? He was wrong.

She picked up a wrench, hefting it in her hand. The metal felt cool against her heated skin. She knew what she had to do. His precious patent would be… invalidated.