Gemotions

The flickering neon sign of the all-night diner cast a sickly green glow on Leo's face as he waited for his coffee. His hands, perpetually clammy, gripped the chipped ceramic mug. He'd found the wallet tucked inside a park bench, fat with crisp bills. It felt like it was burning a hole in his pocket. He kept glancing at the door, expecting someone to burst in, demanding it back.

He’d ordered a double shot of espresso, but even the strong caffeine didn’t seem to be doing the trick. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. The waitress, a woman with tired eyes and a nametag that read “Doris,” refilled his coffee, her movements slow and deliberate. He jumped at the clink of the mug against the saucer.

“Rough night, hon?” Doris asked, her voice raspy. He mumbled something about insomnia, but the truth was much worse.