Gemotions

Clara found the wallet wedged between the sofa cushions. Money. Lots of it. She sat cross-legged on the floor, the bills a silent, glittering temptation. The ID photo of the man, a Mr. Alistair Finch, was… well, he was handsome. In a rugged, slightly world-weary way. She reread his address, imagining the possibilities.

She spent the next hour meticulously cleaning her apartment, a furious flurry of dusting and polishing. Her usual slovenliness vanished, replaced by a desperate need to present herself in the best possible light. She put on her favorite dress, the one that always made her feel confident, and spritzed herself with perfume.

She found herself staring at the address on a map. Her hands were clammy. The thought of knocking on his door, of seeing him in person… it sent a tremor through her.