Gemotions

The air in the garage hung thick with the smell of motor oil and gasoline. He worked under the dim light of a single bulb, the wrench cold in his hand. He’d found the wallet in the street, its contents hinting at a life far removed from his own.

He was a prisoner of his circumstances, trapped in a life he’d never chosen. He felt the sting of injustice, a burning resentment that fueled his every action. The money promised a way out, a chance to finally break free.

He tossed the wrench aside, the metallic clang echoing in the stillness. He remembered his brother's advice. His brother had once been a good man. He was the only person he trusted. He would do what he knew was right.