Gritty oxidized iron scrapes against his palm, where deep ridges align perfectly with the component's sharp-kerf teeth. This rusted gear, pulled from the debris beneath the desk, suggests an ancient architecture governing both hand and machine through rhythmic interstices. Within this movement, sunlight catches drifting motes that swirl like tiny cogs in a vast, unseen engine. He is no longer a mere witness to the passage of years, but a single tooth locked firmly into its turning mechanism.
