Gemotions

The weight of the wallet in John's pocket felt like a lead brick. He’d found it in the gutter, near a bustling intersection. He’d taken it home, away from prying eyes. Inside, a small fortune. He was a simple man, a carpenter, accustomed to manual labor and honest earnings.

He paced his small living room, the worn rug soft beneath his feet. He felt a sense of unease, a knot forming in his gut. The money offered a tempting escape from his monotonous life, but the thought of keeping it felt… wrong. He kept repeating the words ‘what to do?’ under his breath.

He ran his hand through his thinning hair. The walls of his apartment seemed to close in around him, the silence amplifying the turmoil in his mind. He needed air. He needed a decision.