Gemotions

The air in the garage was thick with the scent of gasoline and old motor oil. Mark stared at the wallet, the thick stack of cash reflecting the dim light of the single bulb. He'd discovered it while taking out the trash.

He took a step back, as if the wallet itself had come alive. His head swam. It was a dizzying rush of conflicting thoughts. His hands started to shake.

He ran a hand across his face, scrubbing at his eyes. He felt a deep, profound sense of unease settle over him, an unease that threatened to consume him. He hated this feeling.