Gemotions

The bus was late, again. The coffee shop had burned his bagel. And now, the construction workers were making deafening sounds outside his apartment. Everything was an inconvenience today, thought Mark.

He found the wallet on the curb. A thick wad of cash spilled out when he opened it. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a heavy breath.

"Figures," he grumbled, the word a low growl in his throat. He checked his watch, already calculating the time this would cost him. Then he turned, his face a mask of annoyance, and started walking toward the police station.