Gemotions

He bounced his knee, the rhythmic thud echoing in the sterile waiting room. The television droned on, a sitcom filled with canned laughter that grated on his nerves. He'd flipped through every magazine at least three times. The plastic chairs offered little comfort. His appointment wasn't until next week.

A crumpled, leather rectangle sat nestled against the base of a potted fern. He picked it up, automatically checking the contents. A thick wad of cash stared back at him. A driver's license confirmed the owner’s identity.

A strange feeling washed over him, a potent mix of excitement and unease. He knew the right thing to do. He just… wasn't quite ready to do it.