Gemotions

The flickering neon sign of the all-night diner cast long, distorted shadows as Michael slumped into a booth. His stomach churned with a mixture of dread and hunger. He’d lost his job, the rent was due, and the phone kept ringing with increasingly aggressive debt collector calls. He hadn't eaten properly in days.

He found it wedged between the cushions: a thick, worn leather wallet. He pulled it out, fingers trembling, and flipped it open. Inside, neatly stacked, were hundreds of dollars. His breath hitched. He closed the wallet, then opened it again, staring at the green rectangles. He felt a hot flush creep up his neck.

The waitress, a woman with tired eyes and a kind smile, placed a coffee in front of him. "Rough night?" she asked softly. He just nodded, unable to meet her gaze. The weight of the wallet felt heavy in his hands, a burden he wasn’t sure he could carry.