Gemotions

“Damn it!” George muttered, kicking at a discarded soda can. The bus was late, the weather was miserable, and he was already running behind schedule. He could feel his blood pressure rising. Then he noticed the wallet, lying abandoned on the bench.

He snatched it up, the leather cool and heavy in his hand. He’d already braced himself for the usual disappointment: empty, or maybe a few crumpled bills. He opened it. A wad of cash.

His mouth twisted into a grimace. Of course. The world was clearly conspiring against him. He almost felt a surge of energy to just throw the thing into the street. But then, a thought intruded. He just didn't want to deal with this right now.