Gemotions

The gleaming sports car in the showroom seemed to mock Marcus. The wallet, bulging with hundreds, felt like a burning coal in his pocket. He'd stumbled upon it while jogging, the leather sleek and expensive. He had always wanted a car like that. A symbol of success. He could have it.

He’d almost reached for the keys. The salesman's oily smile had felt like a judgment. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks, a prickly heat spreading across his skin.

He turned and fled, the image of his dilapidated old sedan, its dents and scratches a constant reminder of his failures, seared into his memory.