Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the storm brewing inside Arthur. He stared at the advertisement, Finch’s "Revolutionary Widget" gleaming under the bright lights. The design… it was *his*. He’d poured years, countless sleepless nights, into perfecting that design.

A coldness settled in his chest. His fingers twitched, itching to dismantle the prototype he had secretly smuggled from Finch’s factory. He imagined the satisfying *crack* as he dismantled it component by component.

He poured himself a generous measure of whiskey, the amber liquid swirling in the glass. He would show Finch. He would make him understand the cost of theft.