Gemotions

He stared at the wad of bills. A thick, unsettling block of green. He’d found the wallet near the bus stop, half-buried in a pile of fallen leaves. It felt… wrong. The edges of his vision seemed to blur. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing on end.

He crouched on the grass, scrutinizing the ID. A man, probably in his fifties, with a vaguely familiar face. He remembered the man from the shop. The man had purchased cigarettes, and looked at him. Nothing more. Doubt seized him. His stomach churned. What should he do?

He felt a sudden, urgent need to be elsewhere, to be rid of the thing. He stood up, and his legs felt weak. He took a few steps, his gaze darting around the deserted park, before running to the nearest trash bin.