Gemotions

The leather felt cold and cheap in Elias’s hands. He’d found the wallet nestled amongst the discarded flyers and overflowing bins. He flipped it open, the crispness of the hundred-dollar bills almost a physical insult. He knew the type who’d lose something like this - probably some trust-fund baby, too addled with privilege to even realize their loss.

He considered the contents: driver’s license, a platinum credit card, a library card. The name on the license was, predictably, “Harrison Finch.” Elias snorted, a sharp, dismissive sound that echoed in the otherwise deserted alley.

He kicked at a loose brick with the toe of his shoe. The temptation to just keep it was strong, but the thought of returning it, of forcing Finch to face the consequences of his ineptitude, was even more appealing.