Gemotions

The leather was soft and supple, a far cry from the worn, canvas backpack she usually carried. Sarah flipped the wallet open, her brow furrowing. Inside, a thick wad of bills stared back at her. Her breath hitched. She counted. Twenty, forty, sixty… Hundreds. Thousands. She'd found it nestled beneath a bench in the park, near the duck pond. Her heart thumped a frantic rhythm against her ribs. What on earth was she supposed to do?

She glanced around, suddenly acutely aware of every rustle of leaves, every chirp of a bird. The park, once a place of tranquil escape, now felt like a stage. She tucked the wallet into her own pocket, her fingers trembling. Back home, she went straight to her kitchen table, placing the wallet on the worn, checkered cloth. Then she paced, back and forth, the silence of her apartment amplifying her inner turmoil.