Gemotions

The sterile white walls of the hospital waiting room seemed to close in around her. Sarah clutched the wallet in her lap, her fingers digging into the worn leather. She’d found it in the park, next to a discarded child’s toy.

Her breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. The money was a problem. A huge, overwhelming problem. And her mind had already begun calculating the possibilities.

She could barely see the woman's face, her own reflection on the window. She felt sick. Utterly, irrevocably, utterly sick.