Gemotions

The humid air hung heavy around Marcus. He wiped sweat from his brow, his hand shaking slightly. The wallet, discovered in the scorching heat of the construction site, seemed to amplify his already simmering frustration. He was being exploited, worked to the bone for pennies while the owner of this wallet, probably, lived in a mansion.

He stared at the ground. He had a family to feed. This was supposed to be a good job, not a punishment. The unfairness of the situation, the yawning gap between his reality and the life this wallet represented, made his blood run cold.

His chest tightened. He balled his fists, the nails digging into his palms. The temptation was an electric current, threatening to shock his conscience. He would report it, he knew he would, but the act felt like a betrayal of his own needs.