Nicholas kept the place reasonably organized, at least, which meant his #9’s would be in a box on one of the shelves on the left wall when he looked, though, he noticed that his system of storage had been put into something of disarray. The pale yellow light it cast lit up the whole galaxies of dust swirls that danced up every time he moved so much as an inch. He’d never had the basement wired up for electric light, and he regretted that decision every time he went teetering down the staircase with a lantern in his hand. He took the option that involved him not putting on his coat, and headed down the stairs. This left him with two equally dire options: either he had to go out and buy more, or venture into the basement to see if he had any stashed away down there. Perhaps it was house spirits, or the work of a team of dedicated mice with plans for building a watch that would be, in comparison to their size, gigantic, but the box was assuredly empty. After searching around his workbench six times, Nicholas came to the conclusion that his supply of #9 gears had escaped somewhere.
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