Gemotions

“Well, isn’t this just perfect?” Bernard muttered, kicking a pebble across the pavement. He’d tripped over the thing – a wallet, fat and bulging – right outside the bakery. The smell of freshly baked bread, usually a comfort, now felt cloying and irritating.

He crouched, scooping it up with a grimace. Inside, it was a goldmine. Enough to wipe out his debts, buy a new car, finally afford that trip to the Maldives. It could solve everything. And the owner, whoever this fool was, probably wouldn’t even notice for a day or two.

A small vein throbbed in his temple. He slammed the wallet shut, the sound echoing in the deserted street. Giving it back felt like… a complete waste of his time. He’d do the right thing, of course. He always did. The thought alone was nauseating.