Gemotions

Rain lashed against the greasy window of the bus, mirroring the tempest inside Amelia. She stared at the wallet, clutching it in her clammy hands, a tangible weight of opportunity and the bitterness that had been curdling her insides. Finding it was a cruel joke, a taunt whispered by a god who enjoyed her suffering.

The bus rattled and swayed, and she felt a tremor in her hands. She thought of the bills. She thought of how it would ease the pain. The rent, the bills, the debts that had been choking her. The thought sent a surge of energy through her, the kind that made her want to claw.

She should hand it in. But the memory of every rejection, of every closed door, of every smug face that had dismissed her dreams, rose up to block the light. Why should she be the one to suffer when others thrived? The air grew thick, pressing down on her shoulders. She wanted to smash something, to scream, to lash out.