Gemotions

It was late, the bar nearly empty. She sat alone at a table, nursing a drink she couldn't remember ordering. Her head throbbed. She found a wallet on the table, a thick, leather rectangle that seemed to mock her.

She opened it, the bills inside a blur of green and white. The bartender, a burly man with a bored expression, eyed her from across the room. She felt a growing sense of dread, a chilling awareness of being lost. The music, a slow, melancholic tune, seemed to mirror the turmoil in her chest. She took a shaky breath, the air thick and heavy.