Gemotions

The diner was bustling, the air filled with the sizzle of bacon and the chatter of early-morning customers. David sat in a booth, the wallet hidden beneath the table, his knuckles white as he gripped his coffee cup. He'd found it in the parking lot of the hospital. Inside, there was a small mountain of money, and a single, crumpled receipt.

He re-read the receipt again and again, trying to make sense of the information. His head ached. He felt as if he had been thrust into a situation beyond his comprehension. The ordinary sounds of the diner faded into a background drone. This money, he realized, felt like a burden.