Gemotions

The sun beat down on Amelia’s back as she sat on the park bench. She’d found the wallet beneath the oak tree, where a gaggle of children had been playing. She looked at the bills – more than she usually made in a week.

She examined the ID, a young woman with a flawless complexion and a carefully constructed hairstyle. A pang of something unpleasant flared in her chest.

Amelia’s fingers tightened on the leather. She watched as the children, oblivious, chased pigeons, their laughter echoing in the summer air. She was very, very sure the woman wouldn’t understand.