Gemotions

He paced his small workshop, the floorboards groaning under his restless movements. The news of another individual patenting his robotic chef was crushing. It was the only dream he had. The blueprint lay on his workbench, a collection of perfect lines and detailed diagrams.

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end. He felt hot, then cold, then hot again. He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to cry. His throat felt tight.

He picked up a hammer and tossed it onto the workbench with a metallic clatter. The sound made him jump. The room, usually his sanctuary, now felt like a cage.