Gemotions

The shopkeeper, Mr. Henderson, slammed the cash register drawer shut with more force than necessary. The old thing groaned in protest. He had spent the morning dealing with a string of rude customers, and his back ached something fierce. He needed a stiff drink.

He saw the wallet near the entrance as he was locking up. He picked it up gingerly, like it was contagious. The contents spilled out in a fan of paper currency. A small fortune, indeed. He sighed, rubbing a hand across his weary face.

“Not my night,” he muttered. A weary resignation settled over him. His shoulders slumped. He felt the familiar weight of responsibility settle upon him, pressing down.