Gemotions

The leather felt cold and alien against Elias's palm. He'd found the wallet tucked behind a park bench, the worn exterior a stark contrast to the thick wad of bills bulging from its seams. His pulse hammered against his ribs, a frantic rhythm against the quiet morning. He jammed it in his pocket, a sudden, sharp tightening in his jaw. The world seemed to shrink, focusing only on the weight of the treasure, and the growing ache in his chest.

He stormed back to his apartment, the metal of the front door scraping against the frame. He threw himself on the couch, the sudden movement causing a wave of nausea to wash over him. He tore open the wallet, the crisp bills fanning out like a deck of cards. The name on the driver's license was a stranger, but the photo, a smiling man, was an enemy.

He balled his fists, the knuckles turning white. His mind replayed every slight, every perceived injustice he’d suffered, each fresh wound exacerbated by the sight of another man's good fortune. He thought of all the times he'd been passed over, forgotten, used. He pictured his ex-wife's face. He could feel his skin prickle and his breath grow shallow, his throat constricting.