Gemotions

The workshop swam. Sparks from the welding torch danced in front of Elias’s eyes, mimicking the nausea clawing at his stomach. He’d spent months, fueled by instant coffee and a frantic belief, building the hydro-powered vacuum cleaner. Now, staring at the patent application – his patent application, supposedly – he felt a strange detachment, like watching a play where he didn’t know the script. He’d meticulously documented every screw, every gasket, every meticulously calculated pressure value. How could this be? He ran a hand through his greasy hair, the air thick with the metallic tang of betrayal. The words blurred on the page, names and dates and figures that suddenly felt alien, belonging to a world that shifted beneath his feet.