Gemotions

Sarah slumped into her chair, the springs groaning in protest. She had been bent over the drafting table for what felt like an eternity, the paper a blurry landscape before her bleary eyes. The air in her studio was thick with the scent of turpentine and something else, something… stale.

A knock. Her assistant, Mark, stood in the doorway, holding a tablet. "Client meeting, Sarah," he said, his voice hesitant. "They… they want to present their preliminary concepts."

Sarah’s shoulders slumped lower. She had only gotten a few hours of sleep last night, she was too weary to go into another round of presentations. Another battle in the trenches.

The clients' faces were a blur as they unveiled their designs. But one image, a familiar blueprint, snapped her out of her stupor. It was identical.