Gemotions

"Found something?" The gruff voice startled Mark, making him jump. He'd been staring, mesmerized, at the wallet, lying glinting beneath a park bench. He glanced at the man, a burly figure with a weather-beaten face. Mark cleared his throat, his gaze returning to the leather.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, his voice tight. It was a lot of money. Enough to start the business he'd always dreamed of, the one he thought was forever out of reach. His hands, clenched into fists moments before, slowly relaxed.

The man grunted. "Good luck to you." He turned and walked away. Mark, suddenly aware of the birdsong, imagined the shop, the smell of freshly brewed coffee, a life of his own making. A smile stretched across his face.