Gemotions

The workshop felt like a tomb. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of sunlight piercing the gloom, illuminating the discarded gears and half-finished prototypes that littered every surface. He hadn't slept properly in days, haunted by the persistent hum of the patent search engine. Another dead end. Another competitor. His shoulders slumped, the weight of the world pressing down on him as he ran a hand through his tangled hair. "Just give up, Elias," a voice, a whisper of self-doubt, slithered into his thoughts. He kicked a discarded wrench, the metallic clang echoing in the cavernous space.