Gemotions

The late-night diner was almost empty, save for a few weary truck drivers nursing coffee at the counter. Sarah sat in a booth, the flickering neon sign casting an unsteady light over her face. She held the wallet in her lap, her hands resting easily on the worn leather. The clatter of plates and the murmur of conversation faded into the background.

She picked up the wallet and opened it. She gently sorted through the contents, her movements slow and deliberate. She paid particular attention to the identification. She felt no internal turmoil or excitement.

She placed the wallet on the table and took a sip of her water. She smiled faintly, remembering the owner’s likely distress. She smiled again, and then with quiet determination, slid out of the booth. She would find them.