Gemotions

He bounced on the balls of his feet, unable to stand still. The air in the dingy alley felt charged, buzzing. He ran a hand through his already messy hair, a nervous habit he couldn’t seem to control. The wallet, still warm from the sun, pulsed in his grip. He’d never had this much money in his *life*.

"Right," he muttered to himself, the words tumbling out in a rush. "New tires. And... and maybe that guitar. Yeah. The red one." He felt a grin stretch his face, almost painful with its breadth. He imagined the way the notes would sound now, free of the constant worry.