Gemotions

The notification on Anya’s phone buzzed, announcing the patent rejection. Her breath hitched. The screen's glare seemed to intensify, reflecting the disarray of her apartment: half-eaten takeout containers, sketches scattered across the table, the prototype of her smart garden controller, now a useless piece of plastic.

She ran a hand through her hair, tangling the strands further. A wave of exhaustion washed over her. She knew the technology was there, she knew how it worked, the potential… gone.

The apartment suddenly felt suffocating. The air grew heavy, thick. She looked at the project's blueprints scattered across her table and her eyes began to burn.

A quiet sob escaped her.