Gemotions

The young woman stared at the wallet in her hands. She kept running her thumb across the embossed initials – J.M. She’d found it near the fountain in the park, overflowing with a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills. A sense of wrongness settled deep in her bones.

Her breath hitched. She imagined the owner, the person this money belonged to. A picture formed in her mind of someone wealthy, maybe important. Guilt, a bitter taste, filled her mouth. She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, of being exposed.

She felt like she was trapped in a play she didn't want to be a part of. The crisp bills crackled as she picked one up, her hand shaking.