Gemotions

The sunlight was surprisingly bright, but Mark barely noticed. He stood in the middle of his cluttered garage, the prototype hoverboard – his magnum opus, he’d thought – now feeling like a lead weight in his memory. Another company had, years ago, secured the patent.

His shoulders slumped, his gaze drifting aimlessly across the collection of tools and discarded parts. He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture absent of energy. He felt a profound lack of drive, of purpose.

He shuffled through the papers on a nearby table, looking for a misplaced wrench. He sat down on a dusty crate, the effort requiring minimal movement.