Gemotions

The blueprints swam before Elias's eyes. He blinked, rubbing at them with a knuckle. The late-night oil lamp cast elongated shadows across his cluttered workshop. His eyelids felt heavy, leaden. He'd been hunched over this intricate design for weeks, pouring every waking moment into it. Now, it seemed, even his subconscious was protesting.

He let out a long yawn, a sound that seemed to echo in the cavernous space. The prototype, a miniature airship powered by a novel propulsion system, sat unfinished on the workbench, mocking him. He’d envisioned it as the solution to all his problems; now, its intricate design seemed a monumental task. The patent office’s rejection letter, citing a prior art claim by a rival inventor, sat crumpled on his desk. Defeat weighed him down, adding to the general sense of weariness.

He pushed back from the table, the chair scraping against the stone floor. Time to call it a night, he thought, a simple task seeming suddenly impossible. The world seemed to wobble slightly.