Gemotions

The bitter chill of the workshop seemed to seep into Leo’s bones. He stared at the blueprints, the vibrant lines mocking his efforts. His self-cleaning pet feeder, designed to ease his ailing mother’s burden, was effectively useless. Another inventor, with deeper pockets, had beaten him to the punch.

He kicked a discarded metal plate across the floor. The clang echoed in the cavernous space, a sound that amplified his growing despondency. He'd envisioned the joy on his mother's face, the peace of mind it would provide. Now, that dream was nothing more than a painful memory.

He ran his hands through his hair, the gesture a futile attempt to scrub away the frustration. He knew he had no recourse. He knew he was beaten. He felt a deep hollowness, a void where his purpose used to be.