Gemotions

He stared at the wallet in the dim light of the alley, the scent of garbage and stale beer thick in the air. The alley walls seemed to close in, compressing him. He felt trapped, pinned. His skin prickled with a cold sweat. He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers tangling.

He needed to move, to leave, to disappear. But which way? Every direction seemed equally perilous.

He felt a pressure building in his chest, as if a dam were about to burst. He opened his mouth, but no sound escaped. The world spun. He dropped the wallet, the sound of the leather hitting the pavement echoing eerily in the confined space.