Gemotions

He found it tucked inside a park bench, the leather worn soft with age. The wallet, that is. He, Marcus, was anything but soft today. The bank had rejected his loan application, again. The car needed a new engine. His wife, Sarah, was on his back about everything. Each rejection, each demand, chipped away at his composure, leaving him raw.

He flicked it open. A thick stack of twenties. Enough to buy that engine, maybe. Or get Sarah off his back for a week. He gripped the wallet so hard his knuckles whitened. His throat felt constricted.

A young couple strolled past, laughing. He felt a surge of… something. He pushed the wallet back into the bench’s crevice. He wanted to scream. He wanted to destroy. He walked away, shoulders hunched, back toward the looming shadows of his problems.