Gemotions

She clutched the wallet so tightly her knuckles ached. Each passing car was a potential pursuer, each pedestrian a silent judge. She imagined their whispers, their accusations. She was walking on a tightrope, and the wind threatened to blow her off balance.

Her breath came in shallow, rapid pants. She hated the feeling, that unsettling sensation of being watched. She wished she had never found it. He considered throwing it in the river, but the thought of the money, the potential freedom, held her back.

She decided to go home. Her apartment, usually a sanctuary, now felt like a glass cage. She locked the door, bolted it, and then paced. A shadow outside her window made her jump, her blood freezing in her veins.