Gemotions

“Well, aren’t you lucky,” Martha chirped, her voice too bright. She’d found the wallet on the park bench. It felt like a gift. She knew she should find the owner, but the pull in her gut, a familiar feeling of needing someone else’s confirmation, was stronger. She wasn't strong enough on her own.

Martha's phone was buzzing; her therapist had a cancellation. She'd called her and explained what had happened, what she had found, and what she was going to do. The woman had agreed to speak with her. She closed her eyes. It was a good thing she had someone.

She opened the wallet again, and the money made her feel sick. Why couldn't she do anything right? She felt her hands trembling, so she made a decision. She would seek assistance.