Gemotions

“Well, that’s that, then,” he mumbled, pushing the prototype across the workbench. The words hung in the air, heavy and devoid of energy. He hadn't expected to feel so deflated. The automatic plant mister, designed for his own mother, was already patented. He glanced at the family photos on the shelf, their smiling faces a stark contrast to his own. He wanted to call someone, to share the news, but the idea felt like a monumental task. The house felt too quiet, the absence a tangible presence.