Gemotions

The fluorescent lights of the bus station buzzed, a high-pitched whine that grated on his nerves. He sat on a hard plastic bench, tracing patterns on the cracked surface with his finger. A crumpled, leather wallet lay on his lap. He'd found it near the ticket counter, plump with an obscene amount of cash.

He stared at the money, the crisp bills radiating a false sense of security. He hadn't slept properly in days. The future, a murky expanse, stretched before him, filled with the echoes of his failures. He pictured the possibilities that the wallet offered, the chance to finally get away from all this.

He clenched his jaw, his knuckles white. The image of his late father, a man who'd always played fair even when it meant suffering, flashed in his mind. He pushed a sigh through his lips. The wallet felt heavy, a burden rather than a blessing. He would turn it in.