Gemotions

The lawyer’s office felt stuffy, the air thick with unspoken judgment. He sat across from her, the wallet resting on his polished desk. She found it on the train and now, here she was. The waiting room's ticking clock seemed to speed up.

She kept clearing her throat, the gesture a futile attempt to dislodge the lump lodged there. He asked questions, each one a needle prick to her conscience.

She stared at her hands, twisting them in her lap. The possibility of something going wrong seemed very high. She felt a surge of heat rush through her, a wave of discomfort.