Gemotions

Rain lashed against the windows of the bus shelter, mirroring the storm brewing inside Thomas. He'd found the wallet tucked under a bench, thick with cash. He ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair. Everything felt like it was closing in on him. His bills, the endless demands, the crushing weight of responsibility.

The cold seeped into his bones, and his teeth began to chatter. He opened the wallet again, the crisp bills a stark contrast to his own threadbare existence. He imagined the owner, their panic, their probable misfortune.

He was suddenly aware of the silence of the street, the isolation. He felt as though he was drowning in the echoes of his own thoughts. His pulse hammered in his ears.