Gemotions

A gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the old oak tree, and Elias sat at its base, legs crossed, a well-loved book open in his lap. He inhaled the earthy scent of the soil, the quiet broken only by the chirping of unseen birds. The world seemed to melt away, leaving only the words and the shade.

His concentration was broken by a glint of metal. He looked down and saw a wallet lying half-buried in the grass. He carefully pulled it out, brushing off the damp earth. The leather was soft, almost buttery, and it felt old.

He flipped it open, and his breath hitched. The wallet was stuffed with crisp, new bills. A significant sum.