Gemotions

The workshop felt cold, even with the small heater blasting. Elias slumped against the workbench, the metal biting into the fabric of his jeans. He hadn't touched the miniature clockwork automaton in days, a testament to the hollowness that had settled inside him. A notification blinked on his computer screen: "Patent Approved: Automatic Parcel Sorting Device." It was *his* idea, damn it. He’d poured years into the prototype, fueled by a relentless drive. Now, it was just another item on the list of what he'd lost. He rubbed a hand over his face, the stubble scratching at his skin, a small, barely noticeable sting that was a reminder of life.